LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


PRESENTED  BY 
MR.    GEORGE  COBB 


OUR      COUNTRY      HOME 


fc 

K 


ffi 


HOW  WE  TRANSFORMED  A  WISCONSIN 
WOODLAND 


BY 


FRANCES  KINSLEY   Hl'TCI-HNSON 


WITH  .\r.\Ri.Y  r\vn  //r.v /;/,-/•;/)  ILI.CSTRATIOXS  F 
rfi(>T<><;it>M>iis  ay  Tin-:  .\rrnotf 


CHICAGO 
A.    C.    MH'LrKG  ^  CO. 

1907 


COPYRIGHT 

A.  C.  McCLURo  &  ( '(>. 
1907 

Published  (H-tolx-i-  ,'ii.  UNIT 


[  The  illustrations  in  this  volume  are  all  from  photographs 
by  the  author,  except  the  full-pane  views,  which  are  by- 
Henry  Fuermann.  the  two  bird  pictures  on  page  227,  by  Irene 
(irosvenor  Wheelock.  and  the  plate  on  page  2(>7,  which  is  by 
Sara  Holm.J 


Cfi*  latusitif  \3ttsa 

R.  R.  DONNELLEY   &  SONS  COMPANY 
CHICAGO 


TO 

J.  &. 


WHOSK  INSPIRATION  AND  EM  OLKAliKMKNT 

BROUGHT  FORTH 
THIS  RKCITAL  OK  OUR  F.XPERIKNCKS 


The  happiest  heart  that  ever  beat 

II  \ts  in  some  quiet  breast 
That  found  the  common  d'Ayli^ht  sicect, 

And  left  to  }  leaven  the  rest" 

J.  V.  C. 


CONTEXTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  How  IT  HAPPENED      ......        1 

II.  WHAT  WE  DID  FIRST           ...  .16 

III.  FROM  NOVEMBER  TO  MAY  ...  .33 

IV.  THE  TERRACES            .....  47 
V.  THE  WOODSHED          .          .                    ...     64 

VI.  THE  KITCHEX-GAHDI  \        .  .      79 

VII.  THE  FORMAL  GARDEN  93 

VIII.  THE  PERGOLA    ...  .    107 

IX.  THE  GK.VVKL   PIT                             .  .    125 

X.  OF  SHUT-US                    .                     .  138 

.  XI.  OF  VOTES           .                             .  .161 

XII.  OF  WILD   FLOWERS     .  179 

XIII.  OUR  NEAREST  NEIGHBORS  .    193 

XIV.  A   LINK    v    DAY.  .    21 4 
XV.  WEEDS  FOR  DECORATION*     .                               ,  .    239 

XVI.  CONTUSION  .    256 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


DECORATIVE  HEADING 

THE  ENTRANCE  AT  THE  KAST 

TITLE-PAGE  DECORATIOX 

DECORATIVE  HEADING 

DECORATIVE  HEADING 

HEADPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  I   . 

A  LOVELY  TANGLE 

IT  LED  us  TO  TH E  WATER  's  E DG E 

A  LONG  LAKE  AVITH  DEEPLY  DENTED  SHORES 

FLOATING  OVER  ITS  GLASSY  SURFACE 

A  FRIENDLY  BIT  OF  WATER 

ITS  MIRROR-LIKE  REFLECTIONS 

THE  WILD  GRAPE  DRAPED  THE  WOOD  . 

TAILPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  I    . 

HEADPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  II 

LOOKING  OVER  THE  LAND   . 

Tin:  MAN  OK  MANY  MAPS  EXPLAINS 

THE  LITTLE  MUSHROOM-LIKE  PUMP  HOUSE 

THE  TREES  Go  DOWN  ONE  BY  ONE    . 

THE  DRAINS  CONCEALED  BY  BOULDERS 

THE  LITTLE  COTTAGE 

THE  NATURAL  ROADS  AFTER  THE  SPRING  RAINS 

THE  "UNNATURAL"  ROADS 

TAILPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  II  .          . 

HEADPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  III 


Front  if  pic 


1 

S 

.-> 

5 

9 

9 

18 

IS 

15 

16 

19 

19 


LIST       OF       ILLUSTRATIONS 

I'AGF. 

35 

THK  FIRST   I    PKIGIITS 
PUTTING  ON  THI-:  PKBKLK-DASH 
THE  DtMNG-HOOM 

THE  Love;  GAI.I. 1:1:1 

l"p<i  vi us  PORCH.     FIHST  YKAK    . 

IP-PAIRS  PORCH.     THIHD  YKAK 

TAILPIECE  TO  CHAPTKH  III 

HEADPIECE  TO  CHAPTKK  IV 

Tin:  DOG-TROT  IN  OCTOBER 

THK  SWEET-SCENTED  FLOWERS  OF  THK  WHITE  JASMINE 

Tin;  HorsK  AFTER  Two  YKARS  . 

NORTH  TERRACE.     FIRST  YK AH 

NORTH  TERRACE.     THIRD  YEAH 

A  BED  OF  NATIVE  FERNS 

A  HAPPY  CORNER 

THE  OUT-OF-DOORS  DINING  ROOM 

THE  SUET-TREE  AND  BIRD  BATH 

TAILPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  IV. 

HEADPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  V 

A  SM  vi.i.  LEAN-TO 

THK  KITCHEN  DOORWAY     . 

THE  BERRY  GARDEN 

]\    THE  OVAL.   WHERE    THK    SERVICE    Ro.VI)    TfRNED.   AV  K    PLANTED 

ROSES    . 

THE  SERVICE- YARD  WALL  . 
OVR  BOYISH  VISITORS 
THE  HANDY  WAGON  . 

THE  ROADWAY  LEADING  THROUGH  THE  WOODSHED 
THE  INTERIOR  OF  THE  WOODSHED        .  "  > 

TAILPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  V   . 
HEADPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  VI 

THE  OLD  FENCE  *" 

PATH  FROM  PERGOLA  TO  KITCHKN-GARDKN    ...  tfl 

ARTICHOKES   HEFORE  THE  TOMATO  TRELLIS         .  .      S3 


LIST       OF      ILLUSTRATIONS 


THE  LILAC-FRAMED  GATEWAY     .  ..... 

ALL  READY  TO  Pur  Our     .  ...  .87 

THE  FAIR  EXHIBITS  .  ...  .87 

THOSE  PROUDLY  ANNOUNCED  FIRST  PEAS     .          .          .          .          .89 

TAILPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  VI  ...  .92 

HEADPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  VII        .  ...  .93 

THE  FORMAL  GARDEX.  FIRST  STAGE     ......     9,5 

THE  BARBERRY  HEDGE       .  ...  .9.5 

JUST  OUTSIDE  THE  FORMAL  GARDEN    ....  .99 

FROM  MY  WINDOW     .  ....  .99 

IN  WINTER  COSTUME  ......    10.'} 

LOXG  STRANDS  OF  WOODBINE      .....  .    103 

TAILPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  VII  ......    10(5 

HEADPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  VIII       .......    107 

THE  PERGOLA  IN  WIXTER   .  ......    109 

A  MEANS  OF  PROTECTION    .  .....    109 

THE  WOODSY  SIDE  OF  THE  PERGOLA    .         .         .         .         .         .ill 

THE  DOOR  TO  THE  LAUNDRY  YARD      .          .          .          .          .          .11.'} 

THE  LAUNDRY  YARD.  ......    113 

THE  BALTIMORE  BELLE       .  .          .  .    117 

THE  ROOF  IN  OCTOBER       .  .  .117 

THE  PERGOLA  BROADENS  INTO  v  SQUARE  TEA-HOUSE    .  .    121 

AT  ONE  END  is  A  SMALL  WALL  FOUXTAIN      .          .  .          .    HI 

TAILPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  VIII        ....    124 

HEADPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  IX          .......    12.5 

IN  AND  Our  OF  THE  GRASSY  HOLLOWS          ...  .    127 

THE  IRIS  GLADE         .          .  ...  .127 

WHERE  THE  BROOK  MAKES  A  SIDDKN  TURN  ....    131 

THI:  LAND  GRADED  IN  A  GENTLE  SWEEP      .....    131 

THE  CYCLONE-LIKE  EFFECT          .......    134 

HTGE  BOULDERS  WERE  PLACED          ......    13.5 

THE  GRAVEL  PIT  FINISHED          .......    13;5 

TAILPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  IX  .......    137 

HEADPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  X.  .   138 


LIST       OF      ILLUSTRATIONS 

I'AGF. 

ENCLOSED  THK  HOUSE  SITK  WITH  A  FENCE  .  .    139 

THK  SHRUBBERY  .                     .    139 

MOSTLY  LABKI.S  .    141 

A  TRACERY  OF  BRAMBLES  143 

THK  SEA  BUCKTHORN  .    143 

Tin:  BKIDAL  WREATH  .                    .    147 

THE  GROUNDSEL  Br.su       .                                        .  .    147 

Vim  KNUM  LANTANOIDES  OK  ALNIFOLIUM     .          .  .    151 

VIBI  KM  M  LENTAGO  .  .                    .    151 

SHRUBBERY  EDGING  THE  LAWN  .  .    153 

THE  SHORE  PATH  THE  FIK.ST  YEAR      .  .    155 

THE  SHORE  PATH  THE  THIRD  YEAR     .  .          .    155 

TAILPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  X  .  .                       153 

SHUTTIXG  ix  THE  LAWX  FROM  THE  ROADWAY  BELOW  .                    .    159 

HEADPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  XI         .  .161 

THE  RUSTIC  TEA-HOUSE     .                             .  .    162 

THE  WILD  GRAPE  ix  TAXGLED  MASSES        .  .163 

THE  SMOOTH-LEAVED  HONEYSUCKLE    ...  163 

THE  KUDZC  ix  THE  MIDDLE  OF  MAY  ....  167 

THE  KUDZU  ix  SEPTEMBER          .....  167 

THE  HOUSE  FROM  THE  LAKE       ...  171 

THE  AKEBIA  QUINATA  IN  DECEMBER  .          .          .  .                   .175 

THE  WOODBIXE          ....  175 

TAILPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  XI          ..  .178 

HEADPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  XII       .         .  179 

PIXK  LADY'S-SLIPPER          .         .  181 

GlAXT  SoLOMOx's  SEAL          .             .  1§1 

THE  SPIKED  LOOSESTRIFE  ...  184 

THE  SPIKEXARD  ie7 

lo  / 

BERRIES  BELOVED  BY  ALL  THE  BIRDS         .  187 

NEW  EXGLAND  ASTERS  BY  THE  SHORE  PATH  191 

TAILPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  XII  192 

HEADPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  XIII      .          .  193 
HE  HEARS  A  SOUXD  OF  DANGER           . 


L  J  S  T      OF      I  L  L  U  S  T  R  A  T  IONS 

PAGK 

INTENDING  TO  CARRY  AWAY  EVERY  MIT  OK  FOOD  i\  SKJHT     .          .    195 
THE  EXPANSIBLE  POUCHES  .    19!) 

HAVING  HIS  BREAKFAST       .  .    19!) 

PERFECTLY  AT  HOME  .  .    1!)!) 

TIRELESS  AND  SINGLE-MINDED     ....  .    199 

HAVING  HIS  PICTURE  TAKEN        ...  .  .   203 

BOB  AT  BREAKFAST    .....  .   203 

THE  CHIPPY  is  COMING       .  .  20? 

THE  SOUTH  TEURACE  WALL        ....  207 

THE  GOLD-FISHES'  HOME    ...  ...   21 1 

TAILPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  XIII       .  21.'! 

HEADPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  XIV       .  .214 

THE  ROBINS'  NEST  IN  BITTKR-SWEET  TANGLE       .  .   -215 

THE  ROBINS'  ARAUCARIA    .  .          .   217 

THE  BIRD  BATH  219 

THE  BIRD  BATH  IN  EARLY  SPRING       .  .   21!) 

WAITING  FOR  THE  HUMMING  BIRDS  TO  FLY   .....   222 

THE  THRUSHES  NEST  IN  THE  T.VXGLE  ...  .   224 

MASTER  WAXWING  AND  HIS  NEST         ......    227 

THE  FLICKER    .  .   227 

THE  HOUSE  FROM  THE  LAWN       .  .  231 

THE  DOWNY  WOODPECKER'S  WINTER  NEST  ....   235 

SHOWING  ITS  DEPTH  ...  .  ...   235 

TAILPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  XIV        .......   238 

HEADPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  XV         .......   239 

Ft  LLY  EQUIPPED  FOR  ANY  TASK  .          .          .          .          .          .241 

A  VASE  OF  WILD  CARROT    .  .....   241 

WINDOW  Box  FROM  INSIDE          .  ....   245 

WINDOW  Box  FILLED  WITH  SEED-PODS  ....   245 

GREAT  FEATHERY  HEADS  OF  GOLDEN-ROD  ....   247 

THE  VARIETY  OF  TREE  FORMS     .  .          .   249 

THE  HALLIANA  HONEYSUCKLE  IN  DECEMBKR         ....   249 

THE  INDIAN  CURRANT  .  ~       .  251 

THE  FERN-BOX  FILLED  WITH  SEED  PODS  .   253 


L  I  S  T       OF       ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

A  MOKMM;  i.\  JAXTARY      ........    253 

TAII.IMK<  i;  TO  CIIAITER  XV          .          .          .          .          .          .          .    255 

HEADPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  XVI      .......  256 

THE  G  ATK-POST  .......    257 

Tin:  (lUEEXnorsE      .  .......    259 

THK  LKAF  CAHT  ....  ...   259 

BI;I\(;I.\G  i.\  HHAXCUKS       ........   263 

THE  MAXCHI-HIAX  CHERRY          .......   263 

AT  DISK  .  2(i7 

TAILPIECE  TO  CHAPTER  XVI        ....  .   270 


xvi 


OUR      COUNTRY      HOME 


CHAPTER  I. 
HOW    IT    HAPPENED. 

THERE  were  once  two  people  who  supposed  that  they  had 
lived  a  happy  life.  To  be  sure,  the  Man  Had  Always  Wanted 
a  Farm,  and  the  Woman  Had  Never  Wanted  a  Country  House; 
but  they  had  jogged  along  in  comfortable  and  contented  fashion 
for  years  and  years  until  that  fateful  moment  when  they  walked 
one  day  in  a  forest.  They  had  walked  in  many  forests  in  many 
lands :  they  had  looked  down  the  endless  avenues  of  the  Bois  and 
Foiitainebleau ;  they  had  seen  the  sunset  through  the  pines  of 
Ravenna,  and  rejoiced  in  the  villas  of  Frascati;  they  knew  the  stiff 


OUR       CO    U    N    T    R    Y        HOME 

Florentine  cypresses,  and  the  latomise  of  Syracuse;  they  had  wan- 
dered in  the  thickly  covered  hills  of  the  Danube  valley,  and 
admired  the  great  timber  of  the  Vosges  and  the  Pyrenees;  even 
the  jungles  of  Ceylon  and  the  cryptomerias  of  Nikko  were  not 
unknown  to  them. 

But  this  was  different.  This  was  a  real  American  forest,  one 
might  almost  say  a  New  England  forest,  with  huge  towering  oaks 
and  wide-girthed  maples,  tall  butternuts  and  walnuts  and  hick- 
ories, leaning  lindens  and  an  occasional  elm, —  even  the  slippery 
elm,  whose  pungent  odor  brought  many  a  thought  of  childhood's 
curious  tastes.  The  hawthorn  and  the  ironwood,  the  white  ash, 
with  here  and  there  a  birch,  the  bitternut  and  wild  cherry,  the 
delicate  swaying  shad-bush,  the  prickly  thorn-apple  tree  and  the 
hazel  brush,  the  wild  gooseberry  and  puckery  choke-cherry, —  a 
lovely  tangle, —  led  them  on;  while  in  the  open  spaces  the  black- 
eyed  Susans  held  merry  converse  with  their  swains,  the  Joe  Pye 
weeds,  and  overhead  birds  were  swinging  and  squirrels  leaping 
from  branch  to  branch. 

Beneath  their  feet  the  leaf-mould  lay,  inches  deep  on  the  warm 
moist  earth;  just  beyond,  brown  shadows  fell,  where  long  ago  a 
lofty  tree  had  sunk  its  full  length  on  the  ground,  until  the  seasons' 
constant  change  had  made  a  springy,  spongy  mass  where  bright  - 
hued  mushrooms  found  a  home  and  mossy  tendrils  fluttered  low. 

While  wandering  there  in  sheer  delight,  feasting  their  senses 
on  the  wild,  a  sudden  turn  brought  them  face  to  face  with  a 


HOW       IT       HAPPENED 

weather-worn  and  dilapidated  piece  of  board.  What  sent  that 
electric  thrill  through  the  man  to  his  mate  ?  What  was  it  caused 
that  look  of  understanding?  Unconsciously  their  hands  clasped. 


A   LOVELY   TANGLE 


simultaneously  they  breathed,  "  Could  we  ?  "     For  the  board  bore 
the  heaven-sent  legend : 

"FOR       SALE" 

All  thoughts  of  crops  and  pastures  fled  from  the  man's  mind. 
An  inborn  love  for  the  things  that  grow  overcame  the  woman's 
caution, —  any  fancied  increase  in  care  or  trouble  faded  before  this 
marvellous  possibility,  and  that  moment  was  the  beginning  of  their 
joyous  experiment  with  the  Wisconsin  woodland. 


OUR       C    O    U    X    T    R    Y        HOME 

It  seems  an  incredible  thing  now  as  I  look  back,  to  think  I 
\\  ;i>  once  that  narrow  and  ignorant  and  prejudiced  Person  Who  Did 
Not  Want  a  Country  House.  Perhaps  during  all  those  obstinate 
years,  my  lucky  star  kept  me  from  falling  into  suburban  temptations 
and  free  from  farming  entanglements.  I  know  one  thought  was 
always  uppermost  in  our  minds,  even  before  the  If  was  exchanged 
for  the  When,  in  discussing  this  great  and  —  to  us  —  momentous 
undertaking.  The  woods,  the  Virgin  Forest,  must  never  be  dis- 
turbed, not  one  brown  leaf  should  be  taken  from  its  rich  covering, 
not  one  weak  seedling  should  be  denied  its  growth,  but  just  as  we 
found  it,  in  all  its  natural  beauty,  so  it  should  remain. 

It  almost  seemed  as  if  this  particular  bit  of  wild  land  in  the 
midst  of  farms  and  clearings,  on  the  shores  of  a  beautiful  lake,  had 
been  especially  preserved  during  all  those  fallow  years  for  our 
gratification, —  at  least  what  harm  if  we  thought  so  ?  No  sheep 
or  cattle  had  ever  browsed  there,  the  bent-down  young  sapling  of 
the  Indian  trail  was  still  visible,  the  concave  boulder  where  the 
women  once  ground  their  corn  lay  only  half  buried  in  the  ground. 
In  mossy  hollows  stood  stiffly  the  moccasin  flower,  and  the  curi- 
ous squaw-root  grew  close  to  the  Indian  pipe. 

Last  to  blossom  of  all  the  flowers,  we  found  the  strange  wych- 
hazel.  It  met  us  just  within  the  gate,  it  followed  with  its  wands  of 
gold  our  wanderings  in  burry  glens,  it  led  us  to  the  water's  edge. 
The  old  myth  came  into  my  mind:  "  Wherever  points  the  hazel- 
rod,  there  dig,  for  water  ye  shall  find.  "  We  did  not  have  to  even 


IT   LED   US   TO   THE   AVATEK  S    EDGE 


A   LONG   LAKE   WITH    DEEPLY   DENTED   SHORES 


HOW       IT       HAPPENED 

dig,  for  water  indeed  was  here,  in  alluring  expanse  spread  out 
before  us.  What  was  there  about  that  particular  little  lake  which 
so  captivated  us  ?  Why  was  it  that  after  looking  at  and  admiring 
the  innumerable  small  lakes  with  which  our  woodland  State  is 
dotted,  we  always  returned  to  this  one  with  a  sigh  of  content  ? 

It  was  a  friendly  bit  of  water,  with  friendly  fish  in  its  cool  depths 
only  waiting  to  be  caught, —  black  bass  and  perch  and  pickerel; 
a  lake  just  big  enough  to  temper  the  hot  prairie  winds  of  mid- 
summer and  to  reflect  its  thunder-caps  and  brilliant  sunsets,  a 
long  lake  with  deeply  dented  shores  that  sloped  into  its  shining 
waters  so  that  every  pretty  point  had  the  coolest  breezes  and  the 
most  extended  view !  But  where  was  its  peculiar  charm  ?  To  be 
sure  it  had  the  feminine  quality  of  changefulness :  it  was  never  twice 
alike.  Did  our  imagination,  even  then,  leap  to  its  cool  touch  on 
August  mornings  and  show  us  its  mirror-like  reflections  on  still 
September  dawns?  Did  its  refreshing  breezes  tell  us  of  the  won- 
drous moonlit  nights  before  us  ?  —  those  nights,  yes,  they  must  have 
held  the  secret,  the  last  exquisite  touch.  Surely  nowhere  else 
did  the  shimmering  water  dance  under  the  golden  rays  in  so  glad- 
some ;i  fashion.  Floating  over  its  glassy  surface,  down  those  paths 
of  light,  suspended  between  earth  and  sky,  a  sweet  voice  making 
melody  and  all  one's  senses  lulled  to  rest, —  could  happiness  go 
further  ? 

Let  us  make  haste,  then,  to  build  us  this  home  in  the  woodland, 
a  small  and  simple  abode  where  the  birds  may  nest  close  to  our 


R       (      O    U    N    T    R    V        H    O    M    E 


\vimlo\vs.  We  will  have  grass-grown  roads  leading  to  it,  and  wind- 
ing paths:  hut  all  about  us,  it  shall  remain  a  wilderness.  If  the 
great  folds  of  the  wild  grape  fall  to  the  ground,  another  wild  grape 
shall  begin  to  twine  with  clinging  tendrils  over  the  low  bushes,  up 
tin-  Npre.iding  branches,  until  it  can  wave  its  arras  in  triumph  from 
the  top  of  the  tallest  tree.  If  one  of  the  great  oaks  die,  an  acorn 
shall  drop  in  the  ground  at  its  feet;  and  if  we  should  not  sit  in  its 
shade,  it  will  be  for  some  one  a  happv  retreat.  So  can  we  build 
for  the  future  and  think  of  the  pleasures  which  others  may  know; 
perhaps  some  reflection  may  fall  upon  us  and  add  to  our  joy  in  the 
work  which  we  do. 

This  shall  be  our  home  and  our  refuge  and  a  refuge  for  our 
friends.  Can  life  ever  grow  monotonous,  or  the  days  bore  us,  with 
such  wonders  unfolding  before  our  newly  opened  eyes  ?  To  have 
a  new  sensation  of  genuine  pleasure  when  one  has  passed  the  for- 
tieth milestone  is  something  not  to  be  despised,  and  here  was  a 
whole  world  of  new  sensations,  a  daily  new  discovery  to  feast  upon. 
To  take  possession  of  the  sunrises  and  the  starlit  nights,  to  feel  the 
earth  full  of  promise  beneath  one,  to  say  to  each  winged  creature 
and  trembling  being,  "You  are  my  brother  and  my  sister,  let  us 
enjoy  all  this  together!  "  -  what  a  heavenly  outlook! 

Said  a  new  neighbor  to  us  one  day,  "I  do  not  want  to 
complete  my  place  this  summer,  I  want  something  left  to  keep  my 
husband  interested  another  year." 

"  You  need  not  imagine,  my  dear  inexperienced  friend,  that  you 


KIX)ATING    OVKH    ITS    (iI.AS.SV    SI  HI  ACK 


A     1  HIl.XDl.Y    BIT    OF    WATER 


HOW       IT       II    A    P    P    E    N    E    D 

can  ever  really  finish  a  country  place,"  replied  the  Constant  Im- 
prover, for  so  was  re-christened  The  Man  Who  Had  Always 
Wanted  a  Farm.  "That  is  one  of  its  greatest  charms.  There  is 
always  something  new  to  make,  to  build,  to  do." 

And  the  Constant  Improver  unconsciously  tossed  hack  his  head 
and  his  eyes  flashed  at  the  joyous  prospect. 

Is  it  possible  to  live  among  the  wonders  of  this  wilderness  and 
not  desire  to  know  something  about  them  ?  Think  of  the  enormous 
variety  of  leaf-shapes  to  learn,  the  changing  seasons'  flowers  to 
name,  the  fruits  and  berries  to  classify,  the  Avild  life  from  humming- 
bird to  crow,  from  the  muskrat  on  the  shore  to  the  squirrel  in  the 
wood.  Think  of  the  mushrooms,  with  their  uselessly  complicated 
nomenclature,  and  the  butterflies,  the  stinging  family,  the  beetles 
and  the  ants,  the  caterpillars  and  grubs  innumerable.  Has  not 
many  an  eminent  man  spent  a  lifetime  on  the  study  of  a  single 
part  of  this  natural  world  ?  Here  was  the  opportunity,  a  wide  field 
spread  before  us. 

That  first  September,  when  the  wild  grape  draped  the  wood 
with  its  huge  brown  winding  cables,  its  tangle  of  twisted  tendrils, 
and  its  clusters  of  puckery  fruit,  we  wandered  often  in  the  forest, 
searching  each  ferny  glen  and  wondering  at  the  succession  of  pic- 
tures that  at  every  turn  met  our  ignorant  eyes.  How  interesting 
it  would  be  to  find  out  what  Indians  had  lived  in  this  region,  what 
they  called  it,  and,  if  possible,  use  that  name  for  our  home!  We 

found  out  easily  enough  that  it  was  the  Pottawattomies  who,  not 

11 


OUR       CO    U    X    T    R    Y       HOME 

longer  than  fiftv  years  before,  had  moved  northward  and  settled  in 

«       • 

a  reservation  near  the  Red  River.  So  the  word  must  be  in  the  Pot- 
ta wattomie  dialect.  Now  what  did  they  call  this  settlement  ? 
That  too  was  soon  discovered.  Any  one  of  the  old  inhabitants 
could  tell  us  that.  It  was  called  ''  Donklauk,"  which,  although  not 
the  real  name,  is  near  enough  for  all  euphonic  purposes,  —  and 
we  feared  it  would  not  do.  Then  we  said,  we  will  perpetuate  the 
memory  of  our  lovely  walks  in  the  woods  and  will  call  it  "  The 
Home  of  the  Wild  Grape  " —  in  Potta wattomie.  When  we  proposed 
to  send  to  Washington  to  the  Smithsonian  Institution,  for  this 
Indian  translation,  it  was  suggested  that  we  had  better  enclose  a 
list  of  names  to  choose  from.  Evidently  this  person  had  had  some 
experience  in  translations,  so  we  added,  "The  Restful  Place," 
"The  Home  in  the  Woods,"  "  Where  Peace  Reigns,"  and  the  like. 
It  was  in  eager  haste  that  we  opened  the  official-looking  docu- 
ment when  it  came  some  months  later,  and  read  the  curious  list 
from  the  Miami,  Potta  wattomie,  and  Ojibway  dialects: 

Kapawick    .     .     .     Shrubbery. 

Wapinipi     .     .     .     White  water. 

Chilakange       .     .     In  the  thicket. 

Tawanong  .     .     .     Tree  place. 

Shipakwong     .     .     Leafy  place. 

Winakwong      .     .     Forest. 

Endaian      .     .     .     My  home. 

Nuashmanek  .     .     Resting  place. 
1-2 


ft 


ITS   MIRROR-LIKE   REFLECTIONS 


THE   WILD   GRAPE    DRAPED   THE    WOOD 


HOW       IT       HAPPENED 

Nuashmanek!  —  how  pretty  it  looked,  but  how  baldly  sanitary 
it  sounded  to  our  too  civilized  senses!  No,  the  old  Indian  tribes 
should  be  remembered  in  our  hearts  but  not  on  our  writing  paper; 
the  wild  grape  with  its  honey-sweet  blossoms,  ''  the  subtlest, 
most  evanescent  of  all  sweet  odors,"  should  twine  about  our  woods 
and  our  arbors ;  but  for  our  name  we  must  go  farther  afield. 

Leaving  this  subject  to  some  future  inspiration,  we  continued 
our  gladsome  planning.  We  will  not  only  preserve  what  is  now 
here,  we  said  to  each  other,  but  we  will  bring  here  every  wild 
flower  that  will  grow;  in  the  open  spaces  beside  the  water  where 
the  birds  love  to  congregate,  we  will  make  a  berry  garden  for  their 
use  alone,  so  that  from  May  on  through  the  whole  long  summer, 
and  until  Christmas-tide,  a  feast  may  be  spread  for  them.  We  will 
tempt  the  shy  creatures  of  the  wood  to  our  doors.  No  enemy  shall 
be  here  to  frighten  them,  but  always  food  and  drink  and  a  hearty 
welcome.  This  shall  be  our  Happiness  and  our  Life  Play. 


CHAPTER  II. 
WHAT  WE  DID  FIRST. 

IT  was  August  when  first  we  wandered  in  our  garden  of  delight. 
By  November  we  had  become  the  proud  possessors  of  seventy- 
two  acres  of  rolling  woodland  which,  from  the  high  road  some  one 
hundred  and  seventy  feet  above  the  level  of  the  lake,  sloped  down  in 
all  sorts  of  unexpected  hills  and  hollows  to  the  shore,  three-quarters 
of  a  mile  away.  Here  a  narrow  strip  of  land  covered  with  old  trees 
jutted  into  the  water,  partially  enclosing  a  shallow  bay.  The  former 
owner,  about  twenty-five  years  before,  had  conceived  the  idea  of 
filling  in  this  bay,  and  so  had  dumped  huge  stumps  there,  with  two- 
inch  planks  set  on  edge  to  keep  the  rich  soil  from  breaking  into  the 
water.  The  Man  of  Many  Maps  said,  '"  Here  is  where  our  work 
begins, "  and  unveiled  to  us  the  possibilities  of  pebbly  beach  and 
wild-rose  bordered  shore,  where  now  the  iris  blossoms  and  pink 
lythrums  are  reflected  in  the  clear  cold  water. 

To  a  beginner  in  country  life  it  seemed  a  formidable  undertaking 
to  evolve  from  a  perfectly  wild  piece  of  woodland  a  house  and  a 
garden;  so  in  order  that  no  time  should  be  wasted,  fre  consulted 

at  once  The  Man  of  Many  Maps,  who  first  divided  the  land  into 

16 


W    HAT       WE        DID       FIRST 

two  parts:  the  woods,  which  were  to  be  left  untouched,  except 
for  a  roadway  opening  through  them;  and  the  part  bordering  on 
the  lake,  which  was  to  be  made  habitable.  Of  this  second  part, 
about  eight  hundred  and  forty  feet  square,  a  detailed  chart  was  made 
showing  all  contours  and  indicating  all  trees  over  six  inches  in  diam- 
eter. After  discussion  among  the  Inevitable  Trio,  —  the  Land- 
scape Gardener,  the  Architect,  and  the  Owner,  —  there  was  sub- 
mitted for  our  approval  a  plan  of  work  carrying  out  the  idea  of  a 
wild-woods  home,  installing  a  water  and  drainage  system,  opening 
vistas  and  spaces  necessary  for  light  and  air,  locating  paths  and 
roads,  kitchen  gardens  and  flower  gardens,  and  the  lawn,  besides 
providing  building  sites  for  cottage,  stable,  and  woodshed,  and  the 
ultimate  home. 

Here  was  a  plan  to  work  with,  and  we  could  do  as  much  or  as 
little  as  we  pleased,  taking  two  years  or  ten,  provided  that  all  we  did 
should  be  a  part  of  a  general  scheme;  then  nothing  would  have  to  be 
done  over.  I  think  that  is  why  people  exclaimed  at  the  apparent 
oldness  of  the  place  after  we  had  lived  there  only  four  years;  to 
be  sure,  the  soil  was  exceedingly  rich,  we  had  plenty  of  water, 
and  we  planted  only  hardy  things. 

It  was  a  dull  dark  day  in  September  when  we  chose  the  site  for 
the  big  house,  the  centre  upon  which  all  the  planting  must  depend. 
A  strong  string  was  drawn  from  tree  to  tree  the  whole  length  of  the 
proposed  front  terrace;  on  this  were  pinned  newspapers,  and  we 

wandered  off  in  different  directions  to  note  the  effect.     The  Constant 

17 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

Improver  went  out  in  a  rowboat  to  get  the  proper  point  of  vantage, 
and  we  exerted  our  several  imaginations  to  the  utmost,  seeking  to 
conceive  the  floor  of  the  house  at  the  top  of  that  flopping  line. 

After  one  or  two  minor  changes  it  was  decided  that  the  house 
must  face  a  little  west  of  south,  to  take  advantage  of  the  prevailing 
wind  in  summer.  Although  it  was  to  be  placed  fully  three  hundred 
feet  back  from  the  lake,  we  were  told  that  the  line  of  the  shore  must 
be  parallel  with  the  line  of  the  house,  a  precaution  which  seemed 
both  conventional  and  unnecessary  to  my  ignorant  ears. 

"But  we  do  not  mean  to  have  stiff  formal  gardening,  little  box 
trees  and  hedging,"  I  objected.  "  We  want  to  look  like  a  house 
dropped  down  in  the  woods,  rather  by  chance." 

"Yes,  but  although  you  might  not  know  why,  that  line  would 
offend  your  eye  and  that  of  every  one  who  looked  upon  the  place,  " 
said  the  Man  of  Many  Maps.  And  he  was  right,  as  our  later  exper- 
ience proved. 

Even  before  the  last  papers  were  signed,  in  our  eagerness  to 
begin  we  had  brought  over  a  traction  engine  and  a  pump,  and  with 
many  men  and  many  barrows  constructed  a  dam  from  the  big  Wis- 
consin willow  to  the  point  of  the  Island,  and  emptied  the  shallow 
bay  of  water.  This  was  done  for  two  reasons,  to  deepen  the  chan- 
nel, and  to  obtain  the  rich  mud  for  filling.  Before  frost  we  had 
covered  the  whole  space  between  the  big  house  site  and  the  lake,  some 
two  acres  in  extent,  with  a  coating  of  lake  mud  twelve  inches  deep. 

We  did  not  mean  to  build  that  big  house,  oh,  not  for  many, 

18 


LOOKING    OVER   THE    LAND 


THE   MAX    OF   MAXY   MAPS    EXPLAIXS 


WHAT       WE        DID       FIRST 

many  years !  The  Constant  Improver  had  always  imagined  a  home 
on  an  eminence  overlooking  wide  expanses,  but  here  even  the  emi- 
nence had  to  be  made:  so  where  ultimately  this  big  house  was  to 
stand,  a  hole  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  long  by  twenty-five  wide 
and  seven  feet  deep  was  emptied  of  its  contents,  and  lo!  the  founda- 
tion of  the  house  was  ready. 

A  wagon  load  of  dirt  dropped  upon  an  acre  of  land  looks  like  a 
teaspoonful,  and  it  took  fully  fifty  thousand  loads  of  various  kinds 
of  soil  to  do  the  grading  necessary  to  bring  the  terrace  of  the  house 
fifteen  feet  above  the  level  of  the  lake,  Fortunately,  with  this  lofty 
height  the  Constant  Improver  professed  himself  entirely  satisfied. 

Always,  when  much  grading  is  to  be  done  the  trees  must  be 
sacrificed.  A  rag  of  cheese-cloth  was  tied  around  each  one  marked 
for  destruction,  and  we  debated  its  fate,  tree  by  tree.  It  was  like 
cutting  off  the  little  dog's  tail  an  inch  at  a  time  so  as  not  to  hurt  him. 
Of  course  we  could  have  ordered  everything  done  without  personal 
supervision.  Probably  The  Man  of  Many  Maps  would  have  pre- 
ferred this  way.  Perhaps  he  hoped  we  might  ultimately  grow 
callous,  —  broad-minded,  he  called  it,  —  or  perhaps  become  reason- 
able and  able  to  understand  the  whys  and  wherefores,  to  foresee 
the  result,  the  completion  of  the  whole;  but  I  confess  it  seemed 
brutal  to  cut  those  trees  down. 

"  Cannot  this  one  be  spared  ?  "  I  pleaded.  "  Look  at  it,  think 
of  the  years  that  it  has  taken  to  make  so  splendid  a  tower;  think  of 

the  years  it  will  take  to  replace  it. " 

21 


OUR       CO    U    N    T    R    Y       HOME 

But  The  Man  of  Many  Maps  would  smile  mysteriously,  half- 
pityingly,  and  say,  "  You  miss  the  point  of  view. "  He  was  not 
punning  either;  far  from  indulging  in  such  frivolities,  he  left  all 
that  to  the  Friendly  Architect ! 

"  Thus  it  must  be, "  he  would  calmly  continue,  '*  and  you  will 
be  satisfied  with  the  result.  You  will  have  plenty  of  trees  left. 
Look  at  your  wonderful  woods.  " 

In  spite  of  my  agreeing  perfectly  with  his  dictum,  in  spite  of  all 
that  my  reasoning  powers  could  tell  me,  in  spite  of  seeing  those  trees 
go  down,  one  by  one,  I  can  never  to  this  day  reconcile  myself  to  it, 
or  hear  that  dreadful  final  crash  without  a  little  contraction  in  my 
throat  and  a  shiver,  as  if  the  tree  were  almost  a  sentient  being,  and 
I  had  taken  a  life. 

After  over  four  hundred  trees,  large  and  small,  had  been  felled, 
I  supposed  the  land  was  ready  to  plant ;  but  no  —  although  the 
trees  had  been  brought  down  in  most  modern  and  approved  fashion 
by  cutting  around  them  and  uprooting  them,  stumps  and  all,  the 
horses  pulling  them  over  by  chains,  —  from  the  lawn  alone,  an  acre 
in  extent,  sixteen  wagon  loads  of  roots  varying  from  one  to  six  inches 
in  diameter  were  carried  away  before  the  land  could  be  ploughed, 
graded,  harrowed,  and  sowed. 

In  order  to  preserve  the  natural  beauty  of  the  shore,  no  pump- 
house,  or  boathouse,  or  even  coal-shed  was  allowed  there.  To  be 
sure,  we  must  have  a  pier.  No  artistic  and  practical  model  pre- 
senting itself,  we  must  fain  keep  to  the  time-honored  posts,  sunk  in 

22 


W    H    A    T       W    E        DID        F    I    R    S    T 

cribs  of  stones  which  could  be  taken  up  in  winter.     This  was  care- 
fully hidden  from  the  house  by  a  grove  of  native  willows. 

Perhaps  the  most  important  part  of  all  work  done  on  a  country 
place  lies  under  the  ground,  and  of  this  underground  work  the  water 
sy>lem  stands  first.  We  were  fortunate  in  having  the  lake  to  draw 


THE    LITTLE    MUSHROOM-LIKK    PfMP    HOUSE 

from.  Close  to  the  pier  an  intake  pipe  four  inches  in  diameter  went 
back  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet  to  the  little  mushroom-like  pump- 
house  at  the  edge  of  the  service  yard.  Its  apex  was  only  six  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  ground.  Over  its  brown  shingled  roof,  the 
outside  tank  holding  fifty-two  gallons  of  gasoline,  and  its  cement 

steps  leading  down  to  the  engine-room,  were  trained  wild  honey- 

23 


O    u    R       COUNTRY       HOME 

suckles  and  blackberry  vines,  and  all  about  were  planted  dogwoods 
and  wild  gooseberries  under  the  small  maples  and  oaks  already 
standing.  The  floor,  six  feet  below  the  level  of  the  ground,  was  made 
of  cement,  the  sides  of  brick.  Here  was  installed  at  once  perhaps 
the  most  important  member  of  our  family,  the  eight-horsepower 
gasoline  engine,  which  for  ease  in  running,  durability,  and  reliability 
cannot  be  praised  too  highly.  The  exhaust  was  carried  thirty  feet 
beyond  the  house  so  that  all  odors  are  rendered  inoffensive. 

Hidden  in  the  woods,  high  up  on  the  hill,  one  hundred  and 
fourteen  feet  above  the  level  of  the  lake  and  seventeen  hundred  feet 
away,  a  great  oval  basin  fourteen  feet  deep,  and  holding  thirty-three 
thousand  gallons,  was  excavated.  Lined  with  brick  and  plastered 
with  cement,  surrounded  with  a  boulder  wall  four  feet  high,  the 
reservoir  was  really  a  beautiful  spot.  The  trees  were  reflected  in 
its  clear  surface,  the  flying  clouds  looked  up  from  its  depths,  shad- 
ows danced  on  its  cool  gray  sides;  but  we  soon  found  it  best  to  give 
up  our  hill-top  lakelet,  and  we  had  to  cover  it.  It  was  charming 
to  see  the  autumn  leaves  dancing  on  its  surface;  but  what  about  the 
action  on  water  of  decayed  vegetable  matter?  An  adventurous 
young  chipmunk  has  been  known  to  investigate  too  closely  the  slip- 
pery cement  sides,  with  disastrous  consequences,  not  merely  to  him- 
self; we  therefore  boarded  over  the  top  and  piled  plenty  of  hay 
on  that  as  a  temporary  expedient.  I  can  well  see  that  the  next 
important  improvement  on  the  place  will  be  a  fine  solid  cement 

basin  roofed  in  clean  and  tight. 

24 


THE    TREES    GO    DOWN    OXK    liY    OXE 


THE    DHAIXS    CONCEALED    BY    BOULDERS 


WHAT       WE        DID       FIRST 

The  engine,  run  usually  only  one  day  in  the  week,  fills  this  reser- 
voir in  nine  and  a  half  hours.  The  main  waterpipes  have  a  diameter 
of  four  inches  and  are  laid  four  feet  deep  to  be  beyond  the  reach  of 
frost ;  the  pressure  is  great  enougli  to  throw  several  streams  of  water 
entirely  over  the  house  from  a  two-inch  fire  hose.  It  was  a  simple 
thing  to  put  reducers  on  the  house  plumbing,  and  a  great  comfort 
always  to  have  plenty  of  water  to  use  as  we  liked.  I  heard  a  woman 
say  once  that  her  ideal  of  country  life  was  to  combine  the  informality 
and  simplicity  of  tent  life  with  plenty  of  bath-rooms ! 

Along  the  roadway,  hidden  behind  boulders  and  shrubs,  through 
the  kitchen  garden  and  flower  garden,  over  the  lawn  and  in  the  wood 
at  irregular  intervals,  the  water  taps  began  to  appear,  standing 
twelve  inches  high  with  wheels  turning  easily  to  control  the  supply, 
ready  to  keep  the  whole  place  moist  in  time  of  drought.  Fifteen 
sprinklers  of  the  simplest  construction,  six  and  eight  feet  in  height 
and  throwing  a  spray  thirty-five  feet  in  diameter,  could  even  be  run 
all  night  if  necessary,  the  faint  throb,  throb,  of  the  engine  carrying 
the  basso  for  the  crickets'  and  katydids'  song. 

Meanwhile  the  little  cottage  in  the  woods  was  growing  rapidly. 
We  frankly  admired  its  brown  rough-hewn  timbers,  overhanging 
eaves,  and  hooded  casements,  its  small,  open  porch,  its  covered 
entry,  and  big  woodshed  for  the  summer  cooking.  With  neither 
shades  nor  blinds,  the  trees  had  to  be  our  protectors  from  the  sun; 
though  flowered  cretonne  curtains  could  be  drawn  across  when 

needed,  making  bright  bits  of  color  on  the  rough  plaster  walls. 

27 


O    U    R       COUNTRY       H    O    M    E 

What  a  happy  summer  we  spent  in  the  tiny  cottage !  To  awaken 
each  morning  with  that  indistinct  realization  of  some  pleasant  hap- 
pening, and  to  feel  sure  that  more  pleasant  and  unthought-of  experi- 
ences were  before  one,  preparing  the  way  for  that  dreamless  slumber 
at  night  into  which  the  out-of-door  worker  so  deliciously  sinks. 


THK   LITTLE   COTTAGE 


Curiously  marked  maps  began  to  appear,  with  numbers  dotted 
all  over  them.  Long  lists  of  plants  and  shrubs  all  carefully  dis- 
guised, even  the  most  familiar,  under  their  interminable  Latin 
names,  accompanied  them.  Our  evening's  occupation,  and  often 
that  of  our  daylight  hours  too,  lay  in  deciphering  these  oddly-shaped 

contours  and  repeating  the  names  of  the  shrubs  which  were  to  go  in 

28 


THi:    '   NATURAL       ROADS    AFTKK    THK    SPRING    RAI.VS 


THE  "  UNNATURAL"  ROADS 


WHAT       WE        DID       FIRST 

them,  for  these  maps  showed  us  exactly  where  to  put  eacli  plant  as 
it  arrived,  and  how  to  place  it,  and  how  many  were  to  be  put  in  each 
bed.  It  was  exhaustive,  —  I  do  not  add  exhausting,  although  I 
might.  Nor  were  we  blind  followers  of  any  man.  That  would 
be  impossible  for  the  Constant  Improver.  We  always  wanted  to 
know  the  reason  why.  Occasionally  we  dared  to  change  the  great 
man's  dictum,  —  sometimes  to  our  regret,  but  at  others  to  our 
mutual  satisfaction. 

The  amount  of  time  we  spent  out  of  doors  that  first  summer  was 
incredible.  Although  it  rained  constantly,  we  prepared  ourselves 
with  suitable  attire  and  watched  the  changes  from  day  to  day. 
Nothing  could  have  given  our  shrubs  a  better  start  than  those  six 
months  of  moisture;  so  what  though  the  roadways  did  suffer  and 
our  grassy  dreams  became  muddy  realities  ?  "  To  change  one's 
mind  is  a  sign  of  progress, "  said  the  Constant  Improver,  and  dili- 
gently hunted  for  gravel. 

Fortunately  we  discovered  on  the  place  two  large  pits  from  which 
we  drew  at  least  two  thousand  loads  of  gravel  and  an  equal  amount 
of  clay,  carefully  distributing  both  along  the  three-quarters  of  a 
mile  of  roadway  extending  from  the  gate  on  the  high  road  to  the 
house.  No  sooner  did  we  get  any  part  nicely  rolled,  than  down 
would  come  the  rain  again  and  undo  all  our  labor.  Where  that 
gravel  went  to  was  a  mystery!  It  simply  disappeared.  Our  own 
supply  gave  out  and  still  the  roadway  cried  for  more !  I  would  not 

dare  to  tell  how  many  wagon-loads  went  to  make  that  apparently 

31 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

wild  and  thoughtless  road,  where  the  rough  grasses  creep  close  and 
the  brown  leaves  dance  at  will. 

In  order  to  preserve  its  natural  and  woodsy  character  and  yet 
keep  it  smooth  and  hard  in  all  kinds  of  weather,  a  system  of  tiles 
and  catch  basins  was  installed,  the  iron  gratings  of  which  were 
carefully  concealed  under  big  boulders.  Over  these  the  wild 
grasses  and  the  moss  soon  gathered,  and  the  squirrels  adopted  them 
at  once  as  dining  tables  and  points  of  vantage.  Blue  violets  and 
buttercups,  the  vetch  and  showy  orchid,  the  wild  mint  and  pyrola, 
the  Solomon's  seal  and  lady's  slipper,  baneberries  both  red 
and  white,  sunflowers  and  asters  and  flowering  spurge,  the  wild 
gooseberry  and  bramble  and  hazel  bush,  and  the  dainty  maiden- 
hair fern,  the  evening  primrose  and  the  bitter-sweet,  with  countless 
other  favorites,  were  planted  all  along  the  roadway,  on  height,  or  in 
hollow,  in  riotous  confusion;  and  at  intervals,  winding  paths,  dark 
and  shadowy,  led  off  into  the  unknown  beauties  of  the  forest  beyond. 


CHAPTER   III. 
FROM  NOVEMBER  TO  MAY. 

AFTER  one  summer  in  the  little  cottage,  the  abounding  desire 
for  hospitality  in  the  heart  of  the  Constant  Improver  over- 
came all  obstacles,  and  it  was  decided  to  build  the  big  house.  This 
was  really  a  lark  from  beginning  to  end.  Our  materials,  so  far  as 
possible,  were  bought  in  the  neighboring  village  where  lived  our 
contractor,  a  fine  cannv  Scotchman,  and  most  of  the  workmen. 

Standing  apart  from  the  main  house,  but  joined  to  it  by  a  one- 
story  passage-way,  was  the  kitchen-house.  This  we  built  first:  a 
little  economical  square  box  of  a  place,  with  every  convenience' 
excellent  ventilation,  and  not  an  inch  of  waste  room.  It  was  begun 
the  first  dav  of  September  and  we  moved  into  it  the  third  of  Novem- 
ber. The  laundry  was  our  library.  We  gravely  covered  the 
stationary  tubs  with  a  piece  of  tapestry,  set  the  four  small  chaits 
around  the  tiny  air-tight  stove,  hung  a  picture  or  two.  moved  in  a 
small  bookcase,  a  rug,  and  a  table  for  writing,  put  up  the  little 
cretonne  curtains  we  had  used  in  the  cottage,  and  were  very  much  at 
home  again.  In  the  maids'  tiny  dining-room  we  had  our  meals, 

with  the  huge  doors  of  the  two  ice-rooms  o|>ening  hospitably  close 

33 


o   r   H     (    o  r  x  T  R  v      n  o   M  E 

to  us.  Of  course  the  kitchen  was  put  in  order  for  the  big  house. 
We  \vere  very  proud  of  that  kitchen;  indeed,  \ve  are  still.  The 
wall>  are  pure  white,  with  short  bright  blue-and-white  cretonne 
curtains  over  the  five  high  windows.  The  plain  low  plaster  hood 
over  the  range  is  fitted  with  an  extra  flue  in  the  chimney,  which 
carrie>  away  the  fumes  from  the  cooking  and  leaves  the  kitchen 
surprisingly  cool  in  summer.  A  temporary  partition  was  built 
across  the  end  where  the  passage-way  would  ultimately  lead  to  the 
big  house. 

In  absorbed  delight  we  watched  the  house  itself  progress  from 
joists  and  uprights,  hidden  brick  courses,  wire  lathing,  and  the  plas- 
ter coats,  up  to  the  shingled  roof.  It  is  vastly  interesting  to  watch  a 
wooden  house  grow,  the  placing  of  each  timber  brings  out  so  sharplv 
the  completed  outline.  We  were  never  tired  of  contemplating  it 
from  every  point  of  the  compass,  and  it  was  with  a  distinct  thrill, 
that  after  climbing  a  ladder  and  stepping  gingerly  over  joists.  I  raised 
my  eyes  for  the  first  time  to  look  out  of  what  was  to  be  a  window  in 
my  own  room! 

One  morning  we  found  a  discouraged  painter  trying  to  fill  the 
big  cracks  in  the  great  rough-hewn  Mississippi  pine  timbers  with 
putt ;i.  When  we  told  him  that  we  liked  cracks,  he  was  speechless. 

The  Constant  Improver  wanted  to  use  the  old  Southern 
''  shakes."  for  the  roof.  ''  They  do  curl  up  and  look  so  picturesque," 
he  said. 

"  Hut  how  about  keeping  the  water  out  ?  "  I  ventured  to  inquire. 

34 


THE    FIRST    UPHIU11T.S 


PUTTING   OX  THE   PEBBLE-DASH 


X    O    V    E    M    B    E    R       T    O      M    A    Y 

Even  the  Friendly  Architect  reluctantly  had  to  admit,  ''Yes, 
thev  will  leak,  it  is  impossible  to  prevent  that."  We  therefore  com- 
promised, securing  the  same  effect  by  raising  the  edge  of  every  fifth 
row  of  shingles  with  a  lath,  thus  giving  a  slight  shadow  every  three 
feet.  In  keen  interest  he  judged  the  si/e  of  the  pebbles  for  the 
pebble-dash  which  was  to  be  used  for  the  first  story  and  showed 
how  he  wanted  the  composition  thrown  upon  the  wall.  It  took  an 
expert  to  do  this  evenly  and  smoothly,  as  the  mixture  hardened 
at  once  and  could  not  be  touched  again. 

We  wanted  to  stay  all  winter,  but  other  duties  demanded  our 
attention  in  the  city.  It  was  only  now  and  then  we  could  steal  away 
for  a  day  or  a  week  to  note  the  progress  of  the  work.  How  exhilara- 
ting was  the  ride  from  the  station,  tucked  into  the  big  high  sleigh, 
with  fur  rugs  piled  about  us  and  the  icy  road  straight  before  us, 
over  the  lake  to  our  own  doors!  How  picturesque  were  the  men 
in  their  winter  costumes!  the  high  boots,  and  fur  caps,  and  the  trim 
heavy  jackets.  Out  on  the  lake  the  clear  ice  called  for  the  skater's 
touch,  and  ice-boats  skimmed  gayly  by,  while  dotted  over  the  surface 
were  small  houses  where  fishermen  sat  beside  tiny  stoves,  watching 
the  line  sunk  through  the  ice  at  their  feet. 

One  blustering  day  in  late  December,  when  some  particularly 
knotty  problem  had  exhausted  the  vocabulary  of  Architect  and 
Foreman  alike,  the  latter  asked  in  sheer  desperation: 

'"  Mr.  Architect,  did  you  ever  build  a  house  like  this 
before .' " 


0    U    R        C    0    U    X    T    R    Y        II    O    M    E 

"  No. " 

"  Did  you  ever  «ec  a  house  built  like  this  before?" 

''  Perhaps  not.  " 

"  What  are  you  trying  to  do.  anyway?"  This  with  still  more 
wrinkled  brow. 

"I  am  trying,"  said  the  Architect,  slowly  and  impressively. 
''  to  make  a  new  house  look  like  an  old  one.  " 

Our  good   Foreman   collapsed. 

All  the  rooms  downstairs  had  heavy  beam  ceilings  and  big  fire- 
places for  four-foot  logs.  The  plaster  was  finished  rough  all  over 
the  house,  and  everywhere  the  casement  windows  opened  wide. 
The  long,  low  book-cases  and  seats  having  been  built  in  the  living- 
room,  we  needed  only  a  writing  table,  a  soft  cushioned  divan  before 
the  fire,  a  few  chairs,  a  chest  for  the  wood,  a  mossy  rug  and  green 
linen  curtains.  We  showed  our  conscientious  painter  an  old  piece 
of  faded  green  velvet  which,  a  hundred  years  ago.  had  hung  before 
a  shrine  of  the  Virgin.  Could  he  calsomiue  the  wall  that  exact 
shade  ?  After  many  struggles  he  succeeded,  and  here  we  hung  our 
favorite  Madonna  and  the  singing  children  of  della  Uobbia.  an 
Arundel  print  or  two.  and  some  illuminated  leaves  from  old  Italian 
choir  books,  and,  behold,  the  room  was  finished. 

Two  hot-air  furnaces  were  put  in  the  house  and  double  windows 
placed  on  the  most  exposed  corners.  With  the  thermometer  at 
seventeen  degrees  below  zero  the  place  was  perfectly  comfortable. 
On  cold  winter  evenings  great  logs  snapped  in  the  fireplaces,  and 

38 


TIIK    I.ON(,    (JAI.LKKV 


NOVEMBER       TO       M    A    Y 

the  flames  leaped  in  the  dusk.  What  fun  to  gather  around  the 
cooling  ashes  and  toast  marshmallows,  or  roast  chestnuts,  or 
pop  corn! 

Although  the  house  was  wired  for  electricity  we  thought  we 
would  try  candles  that  first  year.  We  liked  them  so  well  that 
we  have  never  changed.  I  don't  know  that  I  advise  it  as  a  mat- 
ter of  economy:  but  in  every  other  respect  this  method  of  lighting 
is  perfect. 

From  the  living-room,  near  the  low  broad  shelves  where  lav  the 
magazines  and  papers, —  mostly  garden  ones,  I  am  afraid, —  three 
steps  lead  up  into  the  hall,  where  in  one  corner  a  writing  table  is 
installed,  hidden  by  a  Japanese  dull-gold  screen  which  makes  a 
wonderful  background  for  crab-apple  branches,  trailing  nasturtium 
vines,  or  brilliant  maple  leaves.  Opposite  it  a  small  reolian  organ 
with  its  stand  of  music  rolls  becomes  a  solace  for  many  a  (juiet  hour. 
The  stairs  wind  up  in  easy  stages  around  the  walls  of  an  adorable 
little  tower  on  the  north,  while  from  a  s<juare  vestibule  on  the  east 
the  front  door  opens.  Unlike  most  country  houses,  this  door  is 
entirely  hidden  from  the  living  apartments,  nor  are  any  roads 
visible,  only  stretches  of  green  turf  bounded  by  the  forest  on  one 
side,  and  low  shrubbery  bounded  by  the  lake  on  the  other. 

For  almost  ten  years  we  had  been  gathering  together  various 
articles  of  furniture,  bric-a-brac,  and  pictures,  which  ''  would  be  so 
nice  if  ever  we  had  a  country  house.  "  There  was  one  room  in  the 

city  attic  quite  overflowing;  it  was  not  filled  with  our  discarded  and 

41 


o  r  u     r  o  r  x  T  R  v     n  o  M  E 

ontiM-own  belonging*  cither,  for  according  to  the  Constant  Improver, 
too  many  country  places  serve  as  dumping  grounds.  When  it 
came  to  the  point  of  actual  selection,  only  such  things  were  chosen 
a>  were  suitable  for  the  simplicity  of  our  life  there.  I  did  plead  for 
one  or  two  old  Cashmere  curtains  from  India,  which,  hung  in  a 
dark  corner,  do  not  offend,  and  for  the  Bokhara  embroideries,  which, 
being  on  linen  and  coarse,  blend  beautifully  into  our  color  scheme. 
Good  brasses  of  every  kind  were  acceptable,  with  brown  baskets 
big  and  little  from  Japan.  We  found  a  fine  old  brass  warming  pan 
in  Holland,  which  one  of  the  guests  took  fora  corn-popper,  and  some 
Chinese  lacquer  lanterns  which  were  lovely  for  hanging-lamps. 

The  dining-room,  finished  in  Elizabethan  plaster-and-timber. 
is  ;i  big  airy  room  with  windows  on  four  sides.  Old  pewter  and 
brasses,  blue  delft  and  big  steins  stand  in  brave  procession  on  the 
encircling  shelf,  and  a  soft  red  rug  and  flowered  cretonne  curtains 
give  the  room  its  needed  color.  The  rush-bottomed  chairs  and  dull 
brown  finish  of  the  oaken  table  harmonize  with  the  low-beamed 
ceiling. 

The  use  of  plaster-and-timber  for  interior  decoration  was  an 
innovation  in  this  part  of  the  country. 

We  overheard  one  day  a  workman  saying  to  another:  "What 
style  do  yon  call  this  house.'" 

I  was  glad  he  had  n't  asked  me,  I  should  have  been  so  reluctant 
to  murmur.  "Early  English  domestic  ecclesiastical  architecture! " 

-  for  he  was  a  go<xJ  workman,  and  good  workmen  were  scarce. 

42 


t'PSTAIRS    I'OHCH.       FIRST    VKAH 


I  I-STAIHS    1'OHCII.       TI11HD    YKAH 


X    0    V    E    M    B    E    R       T    ()       M    A    V 

''  I  don't  know  what  xti/lc  you  call  it."  answered  his  companion, 
dabbing  great  brushfnls  of  stain  on  the  narrow  pine  timbers;  ''but 
I  say  this  yere  room  is  puttin'  the  outside  of  the  house  on  the  inside. 
It  isn't  my  taste,  but  we're  told  to  do  it." 

Here  was  the  secret  discovered,  the  key  to  the  whole  situation. 
We  did  want  to  bring  the  outside  inside,  we  wanted  the  house  to  be 
part  and  parcel  of  the  woods,  to  sink  into  the  hillside  and  take  just 
its  proper  proportion  in  the  landscape. 

A  shelter  in  the  present  state  of  civilixatiou  is  a  necessity,  al- 
though I  believe  some  enthusiast  has  prophesied  that  fifty  years 
hence  no  civili/.ed  being  will  think  of  sleeping  indoors.  Little  we 
thought  when  building  the  upstairs  porch  that  lies  hidden  behind 
the  spreading  leaves  of  the  kud/.u  vine,  that  an  outdoor  camp  would 
be  arranged  with  cots  and  rubber  covers,  and  mosquito  nets  im- 
provised with  the  assistance  of  bamboo  poles  from  the  garden  stock. 
Little  we  knew  then  of  the  splendor  of  the  sky  in  August,  when 
shooting  stars  trail  leisurely  across  the  heavens  and  the  Milky 
Way  is  a  glory  of  shimmering  light,  ("an  any  one  tell  the  beauty 
of  the  summer  dawn  or  explain  the  rapture  of  the  wood-thrush's 

song? 

In  the  second  story  of  the  house  a  long  gallery,  continuing  the 
plaster-and-timber  finish  of  the  stairwav,  gives  access  to  the  bed- 
rooms, large,  clean,  and  airy,  and.  like  those  at  the  Xorth  Pole  Hotel, 
all  facing  south  !  And  every  room  has  a  big  clothes-closet  and  a  bath. 

It  is  a  pretty  sight  to  watch  the  evening  procession,  each  guest 

45 


R 


C    O    U    X    T    R    Y       H    O    M    E 


with  her  candle,  winding  up  the  dim  stairway  and  along  the  shadowy 
gallery,  the  old  Roman  ruins  in  the  woodcuts  on  the  narrow  panels 
appearing  and  disappearing,  the  light  reflecting  on  a  bit  of  Gubbio 
or  Mexican  pottery,  on  an  old  Italian  pharmacy  jar  or  delft  plate, 
high  on  the  shelf  above  the  doors.  A  low  seat  covered  with  dull 
red  brocade  stands  opposite  the  row  of  north  windows,  where  the 
long  sweep  of  the  Dipper  greets  the  sleep-laden  pilgrims  on  their 
dreamland  wav. 


CHAPTER   IV. 
THE    TERRACES. 

IX  most  country  houses  the  porches  are  where  the  people  really 
live,  and  ours  was  to  be  no  exception  to  the  rule  but  —  we  had 
a  passion  for  sunlight.  How  were  we  to  have  plenty  of  covered 
porches  and  yet  uncovered  windows .'  Finally  we  arrived  at  a 
satisfactory  solution  of  the  problem.  On  the  cast  we  made  a  covered 
porch  fourteen  feet  wide  and  thirty-four  feet  long,  from  which  de- 
scended the  long  broken  flight  of  shallow  steps  to  the  carriage  road. 
Through  the  house  in  true  Southern  fashion,  separating  the 
living-room  from  the  dining-room,  ran  the  "dog-trot,"  twenty-four 
by  twenty  feet,  which  in  summer  was  to  be  screened  'in,  and  in 
winter  protected  by  glass.  On  the  table  in  one  corner  we  keep  a 
Floral  Calendar  with  the  choicest  blossoms  of  the  day.  The 
season  begins  with  the  hepaticas  in  April;  followed  by  anemones 
and  violets,  jonquils  and  forsythia,  in  May.  June  brings  great 
branches  of  shad-bush  and  bridal  wreath,  lilacs  and  syringas,  and 
roses  galore.  With  July  the  columbines  appear  on  the  table,  the 
lady's  slipper,  the  cardinal-flower,  and  tall  blue  lettuce.  August 

otters  her  yellow  helenium  and  lobelia.     To  most  minds  September 

47 


o  r  R     c  o  r  x  T  R  Y     HOME 

means  asters  and  goldenrod,  but  we  vary  it  with  the  white  snake- 
root  and  the  Jerusalem  artichoke;  while  the  barberry  sprays  and 
bitter-sweet  and  sea-buckthorn  and  wychhazel  come  with  the  late 
October  sunshine.  When  the  first  frosts  drive  the  tender  plants 
indoors  they  are  brought  into  the  dog-trot,  now  glassed  in.  The 
jasmine  is  trained  over  the  rough  walls,  the  osmanthus  and  cryp- 
tomeria  stand  on  guard  in  the  corners,  and  masses  of  chrysanthe- 
mums, yellow  and  white  and  mauve  and  pink,  which  have  been 
ripening  in  the  green-house  all  summer,  make  us  forget  that  the 
leaves  are  falling  and  snow  is  near. 

Along  both  the  north  and  the  south  sides  of  the  house  we  built 
open  brick  terraces  fourteen  feet  wide,  so  that  we  have  a  variety 
of  outdoor  rooms  for  all  sorts  of  weather.  The  south  terrace  is 
finished  with  a  low  split-boulder  Avail,  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet 
in  length;  the  north  terrace  is  even  with  the  lawn  and  with  the 
house  too,  so  it  is  like  stepping  from  one  room  to  another  when  we 
open  any  of  the  seventeen  doors  leading  to  the  outer  world! 

Under  each  group  of  windows  is  built  on  the  house  a  simple  and 
practical  flower  box,  eighteen  inches  wide  and  ten  inches  deep  on 
the  outside.  Those  on  the  south  terrace  are  filled  with  tulips  in  the 
early  Spring,  principally  yellow  ones  to  repeat  the  color  of  the  jon- 
quils in  sunny  masses  under  the  leafless  shrubs.  A  huge  group  of 
forsythias  carries  the  yellow  almost  to  the  water's  edge,  and  when 
the  goldfinch  darts  among  its  radiant  branches  and  the  dandelion 

glows  in  every  corner,  we  say,  "This  is  the  most  beautiful  season 

48 


THE    I>Oi;-TH'lT    IN    (XTOHKK 


TI1K    SWEET-SCENTED    KUWKHS    or    THK    WIIITK    JA>MI\K 


THE       T    E    R    R    A    C    E    S 

of  the  year."  In  Summer  these  window-boxes  are  filled  with  a 
special  salmon-pink  shade  of  geranium  —  the  Mrs.  E.  G.  Hill,  I 
think,  is  its  name  — -  which  blossoms  freely  until  frost.  The  color 
blends  well  with  the  soft  browns  and  grays  of  the  house,  but  it  has 
one  fault,  it  does  not  go  with  the  American  flag,  so  that  we  are 
not  alwavs  as  patriotic  outwardly  as  inwardly.  Close  to  the  house, 
in  the  floor  of  the  terrace,  openings  two  feet  wide  were  left  and 
filled  with  rich  soil  to  nourish  the  vines  and  the  rose  geraniums 
planted  there. 

Oyer  the  low  boulder  wall  clambers  the  sweet-scented  honey- 
suckle, clematis,  both  Jackmani  and  the  Japanese,  the  crimson 
rambler,  and  the  memorial  rose.  The  clematis  does  not.  confine 
its  affections  to  the  wall  alone,  but  clings  to  the  rhodotypus  and 
spinea  Van  Ilouttei,  to  the  rosa  rugosa  and  the  aralia  pentaphvlla, 
to  the  Indian  currant  and  the  forsythia,  to  the  privet  and  even  to 
the  Hercules'  club,  wherever  they  come  within  reach  of  its  twining 
leaves.  At  first  I  struggled  with  strings  tied  to  bricks  to  hold  these 
wandering  tentacles  from  the  neighboring  shrubs,  but  one  year  I 
arrived  too  late  and  the  vines  were  permitted  their  own  sweet  way. 
The  result  was  utterly  charming  and  apparently  not  hurtful  to  the 
bushes,  so  that  within  certain  limits  the  clematis  has  had  its  own 
\vay  ever  since. 

At  the  east  end  of  the  terrace  a  marble  bench  invites  one  to  a 
cool  repose.  It  is  flanked  by  large  terra  cotta  pots  of  the  Chinese 

rose-mallow,  while  a  big  green  Italian  oil  jar  makes  a  nice  bit  of 

51 


0    r    R       C    0    U    X    T    R    Y       H    O    M    E 

color  under  the  roof  of  the  adjoining  porch.  Two  long  boxes  made 
of  rough-hewn  timbers,  stained  brown  to  match  the  house,  stand 
close  to  the  low  ten-ace  wall,  so  that  the  honeysuckle  and  the  kud/u 
run  over  and  cover  their  sides  in  rich  luxuriance.  These  also  hold 
the  brilliant  rose-mallow  blooming  the  whole  summer  through. 
great  rosy  and  crimson  bells  of  beauty.  Of  course  these  have  to 
go  into  the  green-house  for  the  winter,  as  do  also  the  two  small 
cryptomerias  brought  from  Japan,  and  the  osmanthus,  which  was 
sent  to  us  from  Washington  and  looks  exactly  like  a  berryless 
holly.  On  the  brick  floor  are  some  dull  Chinese  bowls  of  the 
pink  hnpatiens  sultana,  an  exquisite  specimen  of  tuberous  begonia 
with  jxrhaps  a  pot  of  blue  spiderwort  sent  by  a  sympathetic  soul 
for  our  wild  garden,  or  a  jar  of  red  peppers  brought  down  from 
the  kitchen  garden  that  we  may  enjoy  the  variety  of  color  as 
they  ripen. 

The  delicate  sprays  and  sweet-scented  flowers  of  the  white 
jasmine  are  twined  about  the  big  rough  brown  timbers  supporting 
the  upstairs  porch;  the  trumpet  vine  hangs  heavy  on  one  corner,  and 
the  kudzu  balances  it  on  the  other  with  masses  of  rich  green  leaves. 
Here  we  sit  on  moonlit  evenings  and  watch  the  boats  sail  through 
the  path  of  gold.  Here  the  rain  comes  down  in  soft  showers  from  the 
gutterless  roofs;  and  five  minutes  after  the  clouds  have  passed, 
the  terrace  is  perfectly  dry  again.  Here  we  linger  to  get  the  hot 
reflected  light  from  the  late  autumn  sun,  and  here  I  labor  durin" 

O 

many  a  happy  hour,  snipping  the  geraniums,  trimming  the  roses,  and 


T    II    E       T    E    R    R    A    C    E    S 

training  the  vines.  I  must  acknowledge  I  am  not  a  rapid  worker;  if 
a  brown  thrasher  creeps  out  from  under  a  sumac  bush,  down  go 
the  scissors  and  up  go  the  glasses.  If  a  catbird  calls  "  miaii  "  too 
persistently,  I  know  I  must  be  working  somewhere  near  his  nest  and 
the  temptation  to  investigate  is  irresistible.  Life  in  the  country  is 
extremely  diverting,  and  concentration  is  difficult. 

\Ve  planted  two  trees  close  to  the  terrace  wall  for  the  birds.  I 
wanted  to  have  one  a  picturesque,  old.  gnarled,  dead  tree.  I  had 
heard  of  this  as  being  a  conspicuous  object  on  the  edge  of  the  lawn 
in  some  English  estates,  but  the  idea  was  a  little  radical  for  the 
Constant  Improver.  lie  remarked  that  probablv  the  newlv  set  out 
trees  would  be  thin  enough,  for  a  year  or  two  anyway,  to  enable 
us  to  see  the  birds  perfectly.  One  was  placed  toward  the  east  end 
of  the  terrace,  and  one  by  my  own  window  at  the  west.  I  am  glad 
to  say  that  the  birds  adopted  them  at  once.  The  humming-bird 
brought  all  her  little  family  to  the  trumpet  flower  pasture  near,  and 
I  have  counted  two  or  three  fledglings  at  a  time  preening  themselves 
and  balancing  their  tiny  bodies  on  a  branch  within  ten  feet  of  mv 
window.  The  song  sparrow  wakened  me  with  his  delicious  trill; 
the  yellow  warbler  and  the  pewee,  the  robins  and  the  thrushes 
made  it  their  rendezvous;  the  cedar-birds  and  the  oriole  took  it  as 
a  resting  place;  the  redstart  chirped  his  brightest,  and  the  bluejay  — 
I  regret  to  say  that  even  the  bluejay  discovered  it  and  descended 
with  a  scream  of  delight. 

The  north  terrace  presented  quite  a  different  planting  problem. 


O    U    R       COUNTRY       HO    M    E 

Here,  where  tne  sun  never  comes  and  no  flowers  can  be  made  to 
grow  in  the  long  window-box,  the  graceful  Boston  fern  was  planted, 
flanked  on  either  end  by  maiden-hair  from  the  woods.  Five  brown 
papier  mache  vases,  such  as  florists  use.  were  sunk  at  irregular 
intervals  in  the  earth  in  order  to  be  invisible.  In  these  were  placed 
lilacs  or  snowballs,  flowering  blackberry  sprays,  tall  lilies  or 
hydrangeas,  wild  asters  or  goldenrod,  plumed  poppies  or  crab- 
apple  branches,  according  to  the  season. 

I  wonder  that  long  before  now  someone  has  not  sung  the  praises 
of  the  impatiens  sultana  with  its  masses  of  deep  shell-pink  flowers, 
blossoming  steadily  from  June  to  frost,  and  in  the  shade.  We  put  out 
a  long  triangle  of  them  at  the  edge  of  the  terrace  among  the  low 
winterberries  and  yellow-root  shrubs.  A  glint  of  morning  sun  and 
at  evening  one  brief  half-hour  seemed  to  be  enough  to  make  these 
brave  bright  flowers  hold  up  their  small  heads  proudlv  and  laugh 
with  each  answering  breeze.  They  were  such  a  gay  lot  the  whole 
summer  long.  All  of  this  I  owe  to  the  generosity  of  a  certain 
good  dame  in  our  nearest  village.  Passing  the  house  one  dav.  I 
could  not  help  exclaiming  at  the  exquisite  shade  of  what  I  thought 
was  dwarf  phlox.  Mustering  up  my  courage, —  it  was  earlv  in 
our  garden  experiences  and  I  did  not  know  then  the  free-masonrv 
among  all  true  nature-lovers, —  I  knocked  at  the  side  door  in  friendlv 
fashion  and  asked  the  name  of  the  shell-pink  flower. 

''I  don't  know  its  name,  but  you  are  welcome  to  it  if  you 
want  some." 

56 


NORTH    TERRACE.       FIRST    YKAR 


.NORTH  TERRACE.      THIRD  TEAR 


THE       TERRACES 


If  I  wanted  some!  I  accepted  the  offer  in  the  spirit  in  which 
it  was  made,  and  from  those  small  cuttings  of  impatiens  sultana,  we 
raised  a  mass  of  tiny  seedlings  which,  when  only  six  inches  high. 
jHTsisted  in  blossoming,  even  under  the  bench  in  the  green-house 

A-rainst  the  ivv-covered  wall  of  the  house,  bv  the  irreat  l)ed  of 


A    I5KD    OK    NATIVK    KKKNS 

native  ferns  from  the  woods,  stands  a  hu^e  saucer,  thirtv  inches 
across,  filled  Avith  hii;  hroad  tuberous  begonias,  pink  and  yellow, 
white  and  scarlet.  If  the  chipmunks  were  not  such  lovers  of  the 
beautiful,  these  brilliant  blossoms  would  last  much  longer!  But 
these  little  rascal>.  eai^er  to  get  the  drop  of  honey  deep  down  in  the 
heart  of  the  flower-,  ruthlessly  tear  them  to  pieces. 


o  r  R     c  o  r  x  T  R  Y     n  o  M  E 

This  terrace  is  bounded  on  the  east  by  the  staircase  tower,  and 
on  the  west  bv  the  out-of-door  dining-room.  The  furniture  in  this 
room  is  simple,  consisting  of  one  stone  bench;  the  dishes  plain  and 
fl>u — to  be  precise,  there  is  but  one, a  brass  jar  from  India,  warranted 
not  to  break  or  dent  if  tipped  over  or  thrown  down  upon  the  brick 


A    II  Al'l'Y    COHXKK 

floor  by  the  sudden  antics  of  Tom  or  Bob.  In  the  jar  is  generally 
corn  or  peanuts,  on  the  bench  is  spread  the  chopped  suet  which  the 
nut-hatches  love,  on  the  floor  are  thrown  cherries  for  the  robins 
and  woodpeckers.  It  is  a  busy,  happy  corner:  the  squirrels  leap 
down  from  the  pergola  roof  at  the  opening  of  a  door;  the  chipmunks, 
by  nature  far  more  timid,  have  learned  to  eat  from  our  hands,  and 

appear  at  any  daylight  hour  ready  and  eager  for  play  or  for  work. 

60 


TllK    OTT-OI-'-DOOHS    DINING-ROOM 


THK    SIF.T    TKKK    AND    UIHD-BATH 


T    II    E       T  E    R    R    A    C     E  S 

Close  by,  sunk  in  a  convenient  corner  under  a  maple  tree,  a  small 
forsythia  shading  it,  lies  the  drinking  fountain  and  bird-hath  in  one. 
a  big  hollow  boulder  always  kept  filled  with  fresh  clean  water.  Shall 
I  acknowledge  it  is  scrubbed  every  Friday  with  soap  and  water  ?  I 
know  the  birds  appreciate  the  fact.  On  the  overhanging  bush  grow, 
apparently,  currants  or  cherries  or  grapes,  according  to  the  season. 
They  look  very  pretty  hanging  on  the  pendulous  branches  of  the 
forsytliia.  Here  on  the  north  terrace  we  have  our  after-dinner  coffee 
on  mild  Sundays  in  the  late  autumn,  and  here  all  summer  long  we 
spend  many  a  patient  hour,  making  friends  with  our  nearest  neigh- 
bors in  the  wild  life  about  us.  From  the  big  overhanging  trees  be- 
vond  the  lawn,  the  flycatchers  dart  after  their  tiny  prey,  the  yellow 
warblers  come  down  to  bathe,  and  the  red-headed  woodpeckers 
call  their  children  to  the  newly  found  fruit  farm  so  conveniently  near. 
The  shadows  lengthen  on  the  lawn,  the  evening  song  of  the  thrush 
arises,  the  robins  on  the  pergola  tuck  their  small  heads  away,  even 
Bob,  the  squirrel,  disappears  into  the  dusk.  The  night  has  come. 


CHAPTER    V. 
THE   WOODSHED. 

THERE  is  generally  some  corner  of  an  otherwise  perfectly  regu- 
lated estate  where  the  various  implements  used  in  cultivating 
the  soil  are  left  carelessly  lying  about:  —  a  wheelbarrow  dropped  on 
one  side  when  the  whistle  blew,  a  spade  thrown  down,  a  rake  aban- 
doned, and  even  the  plough  resting  after  snow  has  come.  This  is 
not  only  disorderly  and  ugly,  but  also  wasteful  and  extravagant, 
according  to  the  Constant  Improver.  A  place  should  be  provided 
for  every  article.  Still  less  patience  did  he  have  with  the  countless 
bits  of  jetsam  and  flotsam  usually  found  near  the  kitchen  door. 

"  No.  there  isn't  the  least  necessity  for  a  backyard!"  reiterated 
the  Constant  Improver.  ''The  kitchen  doorway  should  be  kept 
as  neat  as  the  front  of  the  house.  This  accumulation  of  rubbish  in 
a  backyard  is  simply  a  survival  of  an  old  outgrown  idea. 

''  Yes,  sir,"  I  meekly  assented,  and  began  my  objections.  "  What 
about  the  coal  and  kindlings,  the  ash-can  and  the  hose,  the  ice- 
cream freezer  and  the  blacking  box,  the  — 

"  All  shall  be  provided  for,  and  each  shall  have  a  place  — 

"  A  convenient  one,  please,"  I  interposed,  as  I  foresaw  my  strug- 
gles with  new  "helpers." 

64 


A    SMALL    LKAX-TO 


THE   KITCHEN    DOORWAY 


THE        WOODSHED 

"Certainly  a  convenient  one,  much  better  than  in  the  disorder 
of  the  backyard,"  and  his  tone  was  unmistakably  contemptuous. 

Part  of  the  kitchen-house  porch  was  therefore  partitioned  off, 
making  a  really  admirable  place  for  the  coal  and  kindling,  for  the 
two  garbage  tins,  the  oil-can,  and  the  ash-barrel,  the  pier  lantern 
and  the  stepladders,  the  ice-tongs  and  the  brooms,  with  a  nail  for 
each  cloth  and  tool.  It  did  not  quite  take  in  the  wheelbarrow  or 
the  sprinkler,  the  big  coils  of  hose  or  the  lawn-mower,  the  leaf-cart, 
rakes,  or  other  gardener's  implements ;  so  a  small  lean-to,  seven  by 
sixteen  feet,  was  built  into  the  corner  of  the  service  yard,  and  vines 
were  planted  over  it  and  bushes  about  it.  It  is  curious  how  soon 
such  an  enclosure  gets  filled  to  overflowing.  We  had  a  tool  room 
in  the  stable,  too,  which  did  not  seem  to  have  lost  any  of  its  mass  of 
heterogeneous  contents.  Our  kitchen  doorway  was  neatness  per- 
sonified, the  brick  walk  was  as  clean  as  our  front  terrace;  and  in 
the  oval  where  the  service  road  turned  we  planted  roses,  which  took 
advantage  of  the  open  yet  sheltered  situation,  and  prospered  ex- 
ceedingly. We  approved  of  our  service  yard,  but  the  problem  of 
the  old-fashioned  backyard  was  only  half  solved.  Somewhere  the 
big  logs  must  be  piled  up,  somewhere  the  old  boxes  and  cases  must 
repose  before  being  split  into  kindling,  somewhere  the  extra  bricks 
and  drain  tiles,  the  wire-cloth,  the  barrel  of  salt,  the  bags  of  bone- 
meal,  and  general  odds  and  ends  must  find  a  resting  place. 

So  the  Constant  Improver  seized  his  scribbling  pad  and  carelessly 
sketched  a  long  low  woodshed  with  wide-spreading  roof,  much  the 

kind  of  a  house  we  used  to  draw  when  we  were  children. 

67 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

"  Be  sure  it  is  big  enough, "  I  ventured,  and  we  sallied  forth  to 
find  a  spot  for  it  to  stand  upon.  Just  beyond  the  stable  on  the  other 
side  of  the  brook  was  a  comparatively  level  piece  of  ground;  here 
we  decided  to  put  it.  The  Constant  Improver  marked  off  the  site 
in  long  strides,  afterwards  verifying  his  measurements  with  stakes 
and  a  tape-line.  He  sat  him  down  in  his  own  sanctum  and  with 
i|iia(lrille  paper  prepared  a  working  drawing.  It  was  a  tempting 
thing  to  do,  no  chimneys  to  place,  no  windows  or  doors  to  bother 
with;  the  road  eleven  feet  wide  went  through  the  middle  of  it, 
and  all  the  winds  of  heaven  blew  around  its  shadowy  spaces. 
It  was  seventy-two  feet  long,  twenty-five  feet  wide,  and  eighteen  feet 
high  in  the  centre,  and  the  roof  swept  down  within  eight  feet  of  the 
ground  and  matched  that  of  the  house  in  its  raised  shingles.  The 
sides  were  of  rough-hewn  planks  stained  brown  and  overlapping 
each  other  like  clapboards;  the  centre  gable  on  either  side  was  of 
plaster  and  timber  construction  to  the  ground;  and  where  the  side- 
walls  joined  the  roof  a  space  five  inches  high  was  left  for  ventilation. 

The  gardener  began  the  building  with  enthusiasm,  but  it  was  not 
long  before  he  reappeared  carrying  the  drawing,  over  which  he 
still  brooded  in  puzzled  inspection. 

''  At  one  end  the  eaves  are  only  three  feet  from  the  ground,  if  you 
please,  sir,  and  at  the  other  they  are  eight  feet.  " 

"  Well,  that  is  the  fault  of  the  ground,  not  of  the  drawing.  Take 
off  a  plank  or  two  at  the  bottom  of  one  end;  if  the  roof  line  is 

straight  the  rest  will  come  out  all  right.  "     And  it  did. 

fiR 


THE  BKRKY  GARDEN 


IN  THi;  OVAL  WHKRK  THE  SERVICE  ROAD  TURNED  WE  PLANTED  ROSES 


THE  SERVICE  YARD  WALL 


THE       WOODSHED 

The  woodshed  was  an  ideal  spot  for  ''  hide  and  go  seek, "  and 
on  rainy  days  an  unfailing  source  of  pleasure  to  our  boyish  visitors. 
Here  no  jointed  rods  or  brightly  polished  reels  hung  on  the  walls, 
but  the  old-fashioned  poles  of  our  childhood,  the  strings  which 
always  got  tangled  when  in  my  hands,  and  the  hooks  which  caught 


01  H    BOYISH    VISITORS 


everything  —  except  the  fish.  The  iceboat  was  slung  to  the  roof 
in  company  with  an  old  sailboat  mast;  the  carpenter's  bench  with 
its  vise  and  kegs  of  nails  stood  invitingly  at  hand.  In  case  more 
strenuous  exercise  was  desired,  the  axe  was  always  in  the  chopping- 
block  ready  to  be  used,  and  the  saw-horse  with  its  saw  hanging  near 

suggested  an  opportunity.      The  handy  wagon,  too,  was  supposed 

71 


OUR        COUNTRY       HOME 

to  have  its  corner  here  when  not  in  use,  but  it  carried  out  the  prin- 
ciples of  its  name  so  faithfully  that,  loaded  with  clay  or  coal,  with 
stones  or  wood,  with  hay  or  plants,  with  sand  or  sod,  it  was  con- 
stantly in  demand.  Its  strong  construction,  its  adaptable  body, 
its  solid  wooden  wheels  with  six-inch  tires,  were  sources  of  great 


THE    HANDY   WAGON 


satisfaction.  A  huge  sandscreen,  the  scraper,  the  enormous  leaf- 
basket,  a  chain  and  tackle,  an  old  door,  a  discarded  window,  a  worn 
wash-boiler,  planks  and  boards  and  boxes,  kegs  and  pipes  of  all 
sizes,  excelsior  and  straw  for  packing,  poles  and  posts  and  wire- 
netting  and  traps,  an  indescribable  collection  of  odds  and  ends, 
"which  might  come  handy  sometime,"  filled  even  this  big  place 
from  the  ground  to  its  topmost  beam. 

72 


THE       WOODSHED 

If  half  the  woodshed  was  treated  as  a  backyard,  the  other  half 
was  reserved  for  the  wood,  and  here  it  rose  in  neatly  disposed  piles 
from  the  twelve-inch  pieces  to  the  big  four-foot  logs,  split  or  not 
according  to  the  thickness  of  the  tree.  We  had  about  forty  cords 
to  begin  with,  from  the  trees  necessarily  cut  down,  and  each  year  the 
dead  wood  had  to  be  taken  from  the  forest  for  fear  of  fire  or  accident. 
Thus  we  cut  on  an  average  about  thirty  cords  annually,  and  with  all 
our  open  fires,  found  no  difficulty  in  consuming  it. 

Formerly  the  horse  treadmill  went  about  the  country-side  from 
house  to  house  during  the  winter,  filling  the  sheds  with  a  year's  sup- 
ply of  wood.  The  cheerful  buzz  of  the  moving  saw,  the  drop  of  the 
falling  sticks,  the  sweet-smelling,  golden  sawdust  on  the  crisp  snow, 
the  animated  voices  of  the  men  at  work,  enlivened  the  winter  land- 
scape. But  with  this  machine  only  about  twelve  cords  a  day  could 
be  cut ;  so  the  portable  motor  or  steam  saw  has  taken  the  place  of 
the  treadmill,  the  long  shaft  adding  its  whir  to  the  buzz  of  the  saw, 
and  with  this  thirty  cords  can  easily  be  finished  in  a  long  day's  work. 
It  is  certainly  more  humane  and  labor-saving,  and  what  is  a  little 
more  or  less  odor  of  gasoline  in  these  automobile  days  ? 

When  the  trees  are  cut  down  we  save  the  smaller  branches  and 
chop  them  into  certain  lengths,  tying  them  into  bundles  with  willow 
withes.  These  make  a  quick  brilliant  flame  in  the  big  fire-places 
on  cool  autumn  evenings  or  in  the  damp  days  of  midsummer. 

I  never  see  those  huge  four-foot  logs  piled  to  the  roof  at  the  far 

end  of  the  shed  without  a  fleeting  vision  of  our  first  hearth  fire :  the 

73 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

cool  green  room,  the  happy  faces  about  us,  the  sudden  silence  as  the 
Friendly  Architect  formally  passed  the  lighted  match  to  the  Constant 
Improver,  who,  after  a  glance  at  me,  stooped  and  touched  the  bit 
of  paper.  An  instant's  smoke,  and  the  kindling  caught ;  the  flame 
spread  in  a  broad  sheet  over  the  bricks,  and  in  spite  of  the  rain, 
we  knew  that  there  was  a  perfect  draught,  which  ever  since  has  been 
our  comfort  and  our  pride. 

What  does  that  scent  of  the  wood-pile  bring  to  one's  mind  ?  It 
recalls  to  me  a  shady  spot  under  the  big  willow  in  my  grandfather's 
backyard,  where  stood  an  old  worn  chopping-block  and  an  axe.  All 
about  were  chips  which  we  children  used  to  bring  in  by  the  basket- 
ful, I  suppose  to  light  the  fire  with,  but  to  this  day  I  am  not  sure,  — 
as  a  child  I  never  was  interested  to  know;  all  I  delighted  in  was 
the  rich  pungent  odor  of  the  freshly  cut  wood  and  the  rivalry  over 
who  could  fill  her  basket  first.  I  can  see  my  grandfather's  kindly 
face  as  he  stopped  on  his  way  from  the  barn  to  inquire,  "  Who  's 
ahead  ?  "  We  ceased  our  work  instantly  and  looked  up  with  hopeful 
eyes  to  see  if  he  was  going  to  tell  us  a  story :  —  about  the  new  calf's 
doings,  or  the  little  pig's  escape  from  the  barnyard,  or  the  horse  who 
stubbed  his  toe  going  down  hill  with  a  wagon-load  of  apples,  or 
some  other  equally  interesting  tale.  Well  we  knew  those  thrilling 
experiences  and  dearly  did  we  love  them.  As  an  older  person 
delights  to  tell  over  and  over  again  the  same  story,  so  the  child  loves 
to  hear  it,  and  no  matter  how  threadbare  the  narrative,  his  apprecia- 
tive comment  always  is,  "  Tell  it  again.  "  In  what  does  the  charrq 


THE    ROADWAY    LEADING    THHOrcII    THE    WOODSHED 


THE    INTERIOR   OF   THE   WOODSHED 


THE       WOODSHED 

consist  ?  As  we  grow  older  we  demand  novelty,  but  to  a  child  all 
life  is  so  novel,  perhaps,  that  his  imagination,  not  being  bounded  by 
judgment  or  experience,  darts  off  at  all  sorts  of  unexpected  angles 
and  consequently  finds  new  food  for  thought  in  the  elements  of  the 
same  old  story.  Or  is  it  because  the  child  really  grasps  more  of  the 
meaning  at  each  repetition  ?  I  sometimes  doubt  if  children  care 
so-  much  for  the  meaning  of  words;  it  is  rather  the  sound  which 
pleases  them,  as  witness  the  enchanting  effects  of  the  Mother  Goose 
jingles.  Did  you  ever  repeat  a  rhyme  in  a  strange  tongue  to  a  small 
child  ?  Try  it  and  see  what  surprised  joy  it  brings. 

One  quaint  little  chap  always  called  our  pergola,  "the  Purga- 
tory," —  not  that  he  had  any  unhappy  associations  connected  with 
it,  or  meant  to  cast  any  reflections  upon  it;  indeed  I  doubt  very 
much  whether  he  knew  the  meaning  of  the  word,  but  he  preferred 
its  more  resonant  cadence. 

How  many  children  have  played  Robinson  Crusoe  in  our  wood- 
shed and  made  wonderful  discoveries  of  treasure  in  its  dark  corners ! 
The  sun  poured  upon  the  wrestern  side  of  the  shed,  where  it  faced 
the  berry-garden,  and  a  great  patch  of  mint  close  to  the  hospitable 
entrance  mingled  its  perfume  with  the  sweet  scent  of  the  freshly 
cut  wood.  Swallows  made  their  homes  under  the  wide-spreading 
eaves  and  circled  in  endless  curves  above  its  hospitable  roof;  robins 
and  phcebes  appropriated  the  protected  ledges,  and  a  trusting  yellow 
warbler  built  her  nest  in  an  adjacent  low  thicket.  This  particular 

bird  had  a  hard  time  getting  settled  one  year.     When  she  had  nearly 

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finished  her  home  in  a  lilac  bush  by  the  stable,  a  catbird  began  build- 
ing near;  whereupon  the  tiny  aristocrat  moved  every  twig  and  hair 
of  her  own  dwelling  to  a  more  quiet  and  select  neighborhood. 

Through  the  forest  to  the  wood-shed  we  permitted  ourselves 
that  grassy  roadway  which  once  we  dreamed  would  suffice  for  the 
main  avenue.  Wild-flowers  nodded  on  its  borders,  and  the  running 
mallow  spread  over  the  ground  its  tiny  cheeses,  which  children 
love  to  glean. 

Aside  from  its  practical  usefulness  the  woodshed  was  really  a 
beautiful  object;  the  leaves  above  it  cast  wavering  shadows  on  its 
long  expanse  of  moss-green  roof,  the  sunlight  flecked  it,  and  about 
it  rose  the  forest  always  beckoning,  tempting  us  from  our  work  with 
its  promises  and  revelations. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE   KITCHEN-GARDEN. 

FOND  as  we  are  of  the  wilderness,  when  it  comes  to  our  daily 
food  we  have  extremely  civilized  ideas,  so  of  course  a  kitchen- 
garden  was  a  necessity.  Now  this  kind  of  a  garden  should  be  near 
the  house  and  yet  completely  hidden  from  it.  Ours  lies  at  the  end 
of  the  pergola,  in  a  natural  hollow  in  the  woods,  screened  from  the 
lawn  by  trees  and  shrubs  and  all  manner  of  low  underbrush.  A 
winding  path,  with  big  boulder  steps,  leads  down  to  the  lilac-framed 
gateway;  and  as  the  open,  sunlit  space  breaks  upon  one,  the  vision 
seldom  fails  to  elicit  an  exclamation  of  pleasure  even  from  the  least 
enthusiastic  of  our  guests. 

We  had  cleared  but  an  acre  for  this  garden,  as  we  could  not 
bear  to  sacrifice  any  more  trees.  In  sheer  desperation  at  our  obsti- 
nacy, the  Man  of  Many  Maps  wrote  us  that  since  we  had  such  an 
objection  to  cutting  down  trees  he  should  advise  us  to  buy  our  vege- 
tables. Even  this  piece  of  sarcasm  failed  to  move  us,  and  we  do 
buy  our  potatoes  to  this  day.  Can  a  kitchen-garden  without  flowers 
or  trees  or  shrubs  be  beautiful  and  still  thoroughly  practical  ?  We 

think  it  can.     To  be  sure  its  outline  must  be  severe,  since  neither 

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winding  paths  nor  curving  beds  are  permitted.  We  brought  down 
the  old  gray  lichen-covered  fence  which  for  twenty  years  had 
bordered  the  high  road,  and  set  it  up  around  the  garden,  re-hung 
the  squeaky  gate,  and  admired  our  handiwork.  The  country  people 


looked  on  askance.     What  kind  of  ideas  were  these  ?     A  nice,  new, 
painted  one  would  have  cost  no  more! 

Over  the  old  fence  trailing  grape-vines  sprawl  at  their  own  sweet 
will,  and  the  Japanese  clematis  perfumes  the  air  with  its  snowy 
sweetness;  eglantine,  golden  glow,  and  phlox  peer  through  the  pick- 
ets at  their  lowly  neighbors,  and  on  the  west  the  shaded  green  of  the 
young  locust  trees  makes  a  screen  between  the  service  road  and 

the  garden. 

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Outside  one  gate  are  tall  white  lilacs.  They  always  grew  la- 
the gate  in  ray  grandmother's  garden,  and  I  know  she  would  approve 
of  them,  but  what  she  would  think  of  the  frivolous  double-flowering 
Japanese  crab  apples  at  the  opposite  entrance,  it  is  better  perhaps 


PATH    FROM    PERGOLA    TO    KITCHEN-GARDEN 

not  to  know.  In  a  sunny  corner,  still  outside  of  the  fence,  the 
nasturtiums  clamber  riotously,  Avhile  the  hollyhocks  look  down  in 
pharisaical  disdain  on  cauliflower  and  kohlrabi  and  celery  beds. 

Tliis  is  the  frame  for  the  picture.  It  is  possible  that  in  planning 
our  planting  we  paid  more  attention  to  the  appearance  of  the  place 
than  was  wise.  We  first  divided  the  garden  into  four  parts  by  an 
eight-foot  grassy  roadway  and  a  three-foot  intersecting  path,  also  of 

grass.     This  proved  practical  and  the  road  has  never  become  worn. 

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On  either  side  of  the  wide  roadway  down  its  entire  length  the  par- 
sley grew,  keeping  its  feathery  green  fresh  until  Thanksgiving.  Of 
course  we  knew  we  must  plant  everything  in  rows  for  convenience  in 
weeding  and  picking;  but  in  the  first  arrangement  of  those  rows  our 
inexperience  was  laughable.  For  instance,  we  had  the  tall  lima 
beans  against  the  fence,  under  the  shade  of  the  neighboring  trees,— 
they  looked  well  there  too,  on  paper;  then  came  the  trellis  tomatoes 
and  high  Brussels  sprouts  in  gentle  gradation  down  to  the  red  cab- 
bage and  bush  wax-beans  and  sprawling  squashes.  Think  of  the 
lovely  color  scheme!  It  was  certainly  most  unkind  of  our  friends 
the  limas  to  turn  yellow  and  refuse  to  prosper  without  more  sun  and 
air,  while  the  tomatoes,  greedy  gluttons,  said,  "  If  we  can't  have  all 
the  light  we  won't  play."  Now  we  carefully  put  the  limas  in  the 
centre  of  one  side  of  the  garden  and  the  tomatoes  in  the  centre  of  the 
other,  where  they  balance  beautifully  and  prosper  finely,  and  there 
is  no  quarreling. 

I  suppose  all  vegetable  gardens  are  much  alike,  but  it  is  with 
peculiar  pride  that  we  stand  under  the  white  lilacs  at  our  own  gar- 
den gate  and  look  down  the  broad  grassy  roadway,  beyond  the 
parsley  to  the  feathery  carrots.  We  sniff  the  delicious  fragrance 
of  the  mint  and  sweet  marjoram,  the  basil  and  the  balm ;  we  ga/e 
in  deep  admiration  at  the  red-topped  beets,  grass-like  onions,  and 
salsify;  we  look  eagerly  at  the  purple  fruit  of  the  egg  plant  and 
the  long  green  cucumbers  tinder  their  heavy  leaves;  even  the 

horse-radish  and  its  cousin  the  turnip,  the  parsnip  and  the  humble 

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THE    LILAC-FRAMED    GATEWAY 


THE      KITCHEN-GARDEN 

spinach,  we  do  not  despise.  What  more  beautiful  orchid  than  the 
martynia  blossom  •  What  more  lovely  hibiscus  than  the  yellow 
okra  ?  The  scarlet  runners  on  their  high  poles  repeat  the  color  of 
the  peppers  at  their  feet,  and  on  the  eastern  boundary  the  plumy 
mass  of  asparagus  with  its  bright  berries  attracts  the  autumn 
migrants  and  winter  visitors.  In  June  we  steal  a  great  bunch  of 
the  tall  feathery  blossoms  of  the  pie-plant  for  the  dull  green  jar 
by  the  fire-place  in  the  living-room,  and  some  day  we  may  puzzle 
our  citv  friends  still  more  bv  transferring  the  vellow  green  of  the 

•  *  . 

lettuce  gone  to  seed,  to  its  proper  place  in  the  middle  of  the 
dining-room  table! 

Unconsciously  I  may  have  given  the  impression  that  our  kitch- 
en garden  is  principally  a  thing  of  beauty,  attractive  to  the  eye,  but 
with  mediocre  results  in  regard  to  its  products.  This  im- 
pivssion  I  wish  most  emphatically  to  dispel.  As  we  pick  our 
vegetables  smaller  and  younger  than  most  people  do,  naturally 
they  would  not  make  a  wonderful  display  at  County  Fairs,  but 
we  did  get  a  first  prize  for  celery  and  for  kohlrabi  too,  and  a 
second  for  cucumbers,  but  our  highest  achievement  was  an  Honor- 
able Mention  for  carrots! 

The  Constant  Improver  is  certainly  a  worthy  descendant  of 
Adam  as  far  as  tomatoes  are  concerned ;  for  I  believe  that  according 
to  the  higher  criticism  the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  knowledge  of  good  and 
evil  was  really  a  tomato  most  luscious  and  tempting,  which  had 

climbed  the  tree  in  the  midst  of  the  Garden.     Indeed  he  is  so  fond 

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of  them  that  he  has  even  sacrificed  his  patriotism  to  the  extent  of 
buying  his  seeds  in  England.  Button's  "  Best-of-All "  certainly 
quite  justifies  its  name.  It  is  perfectly  sound,  rich  scarlet,  with 
firm  pulp  and,  as  the  catalogues  say,  "  a  good  cropper. "  The 
cascade  tomatoes  hanging  like  grapes  in  long  racemes  have  a  deli- 
cious flavor,  and  are  very  pretty  when  the  fruit  shades  from  green 
to  crimson.  We  also  grow  the  yellow  pear,  delicate  and  dainty. 
Every  morning  at  breakfast,  a  dish  of  tomatoes  is  placed  before 
the  Constant  Improver;  indeed  they  tell  a  story  that  in  ordering  a 
dinner  once,  in  some  form  or  another  tomatoes  appeared  in  every 
course ! 

One  of  our  city  guests,  clutching  her  skirts  tightly,  looked  over 
the  gate  into  the  kitchen  garden  one  September  morning,  and  wish- 
ing to  say  something  pleasant  and  seemly,  asked :  "  What  are 
those  ?  " 

Now  we  had  planted  some  French  artichokes  before  the  trellises 
of  trained  tomatoes  so  that  as  the  leaves  were  stripped  to  permit 
the  fruit  to  ripen,  the  spreading  green  foliage  of  the  artichoke 
might  cover  all  deficiencies. 

The    Constant    Improver  answered:     "Those  are  artichokes, 
-  French  artichokes." 

"What,  those  red  things?" 

"Oh,  no!  those  are  tomatoes."  At  which  we  all,  herself  in- 
cluded, burst  into  irrepressible  laughter. 

In  the  early  Spring  this  sheltered  sunny  hollow  is  an  ideal 


ALL   READY   TO    PUT   OUT 


THE  FAIR  EXHIBITS 


THE      KITCHEN-GARDEN 

spot  for  the  first  June  pea  and  sweet  white  radish,  but  as  the  high 
trees  leaf  out  and  the  underbrush  thickens  in  the  surrounding  for- 
est, the  August  planting  of  peas  demands  more  air  and  is  likely  to 
mould.  This,  however,  is  the  only  thing  that  suffers. 

We  try  to  have  our  three  favorite  vegetables  join  hands,  as  it 


THOSK    PROUDLY    AXXOl'NTED    FIRST    PKAS 

were,  and  accompany  us  through  the  summer  months.  By  early 
May  comes  the  asparagus,  purple  and  green  to  match  the  violets 
creeping  under  the  fence  to  greet  it ;  this  lasts  until  the  middle  of 
June,  when  those  longed-for  and  proudly  announced  first  peas  are 
due.  After  the  morning  greeting  between  neighbors  on  the  train, 
one  casually  remarks,  trying  not  to  let  his  pride  appear  in  his  voice, 

''  We  had  fresh  peas  for  dinner  last  night."     If  the  other  neighbor 

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is  remarkably  polite,  she  merely  answers,  "  How  nice ! "  and  does 
not  boast  of  her  crop  harvested  two  nights  before!  With  good 
fortune  the  peas  last  until  early  August,  when  the  dwarf  limas  begin. 
It  seems  to  me  few  people  appreciate  the  lima  bean.  I  am  not  re- 
ferring to  the  fat,  wilted,  yellow  article  which  one  buys  in  the  city 
markets.  That  is  a  libel  on  the  name.  Picked  when  very  small 
and  flat  and  never  allowed  to  grow  fat,  they  are  a  most  delicious 
vegetable,  taking  their  proper  place  as  the  successor  to  the  green  pea. 

We  find  in  this  climate  great  difficulty  in  wintering  the  French 
artichoke  and  we  do  not  try  to  raise  melons.  Cooked  like  celery 
with  a  brown  or  Hollandaise  sauce,  the  Swiss  chard  is  a  welcome 
addition  to  our.  early  summer  fare.  In  salad,  too,  it  makes  a 
pleasant  change. 

Although  mushrooms  do  not  grow  in  our  kitchen  garden,  they 
form  an  important  part  of  our  bill-of-fare,  for  nearly  all  the  season 
in  one  corner  or  another  of  the  place,  appear  the  richly  flavored 
morels,  the  shaggy-mane  and  inky  coprinus,  the  well-known  field 
mushroom,  the  dainty  psathyrella  disseminata,  or  the  panseolus 
ritirugis  of  particularly  exquisite  flavor.  Nothing  can  be  more 
toothsome  than  these  delicacies  from  one's  own  lawn.  There  is  a 
certain  taste  about  them,  an  indefinable  essence,  which  tickles  the 
pride  as  well  as  the  palate.  Mushrooms  should  be  cooked  very 
simply.  After  peeling  them  we  put  buttered  toast  on  a  flat  baking- 
dish,  pour  cream  over,  put  the  mushrooms  on,  a  dash  of  pepper 

and  salt,  and  bake  for  ten  minutes. 

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Egg-plant  is  usually  either  fried  in  thin  hard  slices  or  baked 
in  its  own  skin ;  but  we  have  a  way  between  the  two.  Peel  it  and 
cut  it  in  slices  half  an  inch  thick.  Soak  it  in  salted  water  for  an 
hour,  roll  it  in  flour,  put  it  in  a  buttered  pan,  and  cook  on  top  of 
the  stove  for  five  minutes;  turn  once.  Serve  at  once,  so  that  the 
outside  may  be  crisp  and  the  inside  soft. 

I  wonder  how  often,  in  America,  sorrel  soup  is  made.  We  are 
very  fond  of  it,  and  the  gardener  is  charmed  to  have  us  uproot  it. 
A  big  handful  flavors  enough  soup  for  eight  people  Only  the 
leaves  are  used,  chopped  fine.  Thicken  the  milk  in  a  double  boiler 
when  heated,  with  a  little  butter  and  flour.  Have  about  two  cup- 
fuls  of  soup  stock  in  a  pan,  put  the  sorrel  in  the  stock,  mix  with  the 
milk  the  last  minute,  and  strain  it  before  serving.  Whipped  cream 
may  be  added  if  desired. 

Part  of  the  beauty  in  a  kitchen-garden  lies  in  the  well-drained 
ground  kept  free  from  weeds,  and  the  rich  black  earth  crumbly 
and  yet  moist  lying  ready  to  receive  the  new  seed  and  return  to  the 
air  new  fruit  from  its  abounding  fertility.  Every  Fall  one-seventh 
of  the  whole  garden  is  trenched  to  a  depth  of  two  feet,  a  layer  of 
manure  put  in,  the  top  soil  put  at  the  bottom,  another  layer  of  man- 
ure at  a  depth  of  one  foot  and  the  bottom  soil  turned  on  top.  The 
rest  of  the  garden  is  all  roughly  spaded  in  the  Fall,  but  in  the  Spring 
it  is  trenched  to  a  depth  of  one  foot  and  a  layer  of  manure  put  in. 
Every  seven  years  the  whole  garden  is  thus  turned  upside  down, 

leaving  only  the  asparagus  and  pie-plant  undisturbed. 

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Farther  up  the  hill  beyond  the  cottage  and  the  stable,  bounded 
by  the  long  woodshed  on  one  side  and  the  greenhouse  on  another, 
lies  the  berry  garden  of  half  an  acre.  Here  are  gooseberries ;  red, 
white,  and  black  currants;  blackberries;  red  and  white  rasp- 
berries; not  to  forget  strawberries,  and  even  a  tiny  patch  of  blue- 
berries! Here  the  small  cherry  trees  are  planted,  and  plums,  pears, 
and  apples,  with  more  mint  beds,  tarragon  and  caraway,  anise 
and  sweet  savory,  sage  and  lavender.  Behind  the  greenhouse  are 
the  cold  frames,  the  rose-beds  for  cutting,  and  the  compost  heap. 
Who  but  the  Constant  Improver  would  have  tried  to  make  the 
compost  heap  a  thing  of  beauty?  After  building  a  high  brown 
fence  about  it,  with  double  gates  on  the  roadway  leading  through, 
and  training  roses  on  one  side  and  wild  grapes  on  the  other,  not 
yet  wholly  satisfied,  he  planted  vegetable  marrow  directly  upon  the 
mound.  This  soon  completely  covered  it  with  a  mass  of  big,  trop- 
ical-looking leaves,  yellow  flowers,  and  pale  green  gourd-like  fruit. 

Beyond  this  enclosure  rises  the  forest  in  gentle  undulations,  and 
the  little  path  beside  a  winding  brook  leads  temptingly  into  its  depth. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  FORMAL  GARDEN. 

IT  did  not  take  long  to  evolve  a  simple,  sensible,  and  comfort- 
able costume  for  working.  This  consisted  of  a  sailor  blouse 
of  cotton  cheviot,  thick  enough,  like  the  Irishwoman's  shawl,  to 
keep  out  the  heat,  while  giving  full  liberty  of  movement.  Being 
tHistarched  it  was  easily  laundered.  With  it  was  worn  a  short, 
straight,  nine-gored  skirt  to  match,  a  wide-brimmed  hat,  stout  low- 
heeled  shoes,  and  large  loose-wristed  gloves.  The  latter  were  pieced 
out  to  the  elbow  with  heavy  silesia  finished  by  an  elastic,  to  keep 
them  from  slipping.  As  a  poor  pocketless  female,  I  evolved  a 
kind  of  carpenter's  apron  for  practical  use  and  found  it  a  great 
convenience.  This  was  made  of  heavy  white  galatea  with  three 
deep  compartments  beginning  six  inches  below  the  waist  and  long 
enough  to  hold  a  hammer.  In  addition,  they  also  held  a  paper 
bag  for  mushrooms,  a  small  pad  and  pencil,  a  ball  of  twine,  scis- 
sors, a  large  knife,  and  a  pair  of  the  pruning  shears  which  were 

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designed  for  the  gentlemen  orange-growers  of  California.  These 
were  given  me  by  a  kindred  spirit,  and  are  one  of  my  most  cher- 
ished possessions.  They  have  a  strong  and  easy  cut  and  yet  are 
small  enough  to  be  held  comfortably  in  the  hand.  Inch  staples  for 
the  big  vines  and  double  pointed  tacks  for  the  smaller  ones,  with  a 
few  hairpins  to  coax  back  refractory  brambles  from  the  path, 
complete  the  outfit.  After  I  have  tucked  in  my  small  Bird  Book, 
hung  the  glasses  around  my  neck,  and  snatched  a  few  peanuts  for 
the  squirrels,  I  am  ready  for  work  in  any  direction. 

Like  the  little  girl  who  was  asked  to  choose  between  a  white 
candy  and  a  pink  one  and  answered,  "  Both,  "so  when  I  was  asked 
to  choose  between  a  wild-flower  garden  and  a  dear  little  shut-in 
garden  of  old-fashioned  blossoms,  I  too  chose  both.  Just  beneath 
my  window,  at  the  edge  of  the  terrace  steps,  lay  a  level  or  nearly 
level  bit  of  ground  just  the  right  size  for  a  tiny  garden,  with  plenty 
of  sun,  protected  on  the  north  by  the  kitchen-house  and  service- 
yard  wall,  and  on  the  west  by  the  forest.  It  measured  fifty  by  sixty 
feet.  We  put  around  it,  first,  a  beautiful  barberry  hedge,  —  not 
a  clipped  hedge,  but  one  heavy  with  graceful  sprays  of  crimson 
fruit.  This  proved  anything  but  practical,  for  it  was  sharp  and 
inhospitable,  and  grew  bare  and  brown  below, —  I  think  the  tech- 
nical term  is  "leggy."  Then  we  piled  up  a  loose  boulder  wall. 
This  was  better,  but  too  rustic  to  be  in  keeping  with  the  terrace 
wall  which  it  joined.  Finally,  we  continued  the  terrace  wall,  three 

and  a  half  feet  high,  of  split  boulders  laid  in  cement.     It  has  three 

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THE    BARBERRY    HEDGE 


THE       FORMAL       GARDEN 

entrances.  On  the  south  the  path  leads  to  the  pier,  on  the  north 
to  the  service-yard,  and  on  the  west  straight  away  down  the  hill  to 
the  depths  of  the  cool,  dark  forest.  The  outer  southern  side  of 
this  wall  is  covered  with  a  mass  of  Dorothy  Perkins  roses  of  a 
wonderful  pure  pink,  and  in  front  of  them  hardy  chrysanthemums 
which  blossom  long  after  the  roses  cease,  so  that  their  colors 
never  clash. 

The  brick  paths,  three  feet  wide,  leave  a  border  of  ten  feet  to 
plant,  on  three  sides  of  the  garden.  There  are  also  four  inner 
beds  of  equal  size,  and  a  small  circle  in  the  centre,  where  a  simple 
travertine  stone  fountain  plays.  The  cement  basin  under  it  is 
lined  with  coarse  gravel,  with  a  few  rocks  for  the  goldfish  to  hide 
under,  and  has  a  border  a  foot  wide  which  is  always  planted  with 
rose  geraniums  growing  rank  in  the  blazing  sun. 

On  descending  the  steps  from  the  terrace,  two  small  pyramidal 
box  trees  stand  on  either  side  of  the  centre  path,  flanked  by  two 
Japanese  quinces  beyond  at  each  end  of  the  flowering  border.  By 
these  grow  clumps  of  bleeding-hearts,  one  in  very  truth  from  my 
grandmother's  garden,  where  it  flourished  forty  years  ago.  Old- 
fashioned  fringed  pinks  fall  over  the  path,  and  a  mass  of  heliotrope 
is  tucked  in  by  the  pier  gate,  from  whence  down  the  southern 
border,  across  the  western  end,  and  back  along  the  northern  border, 
rise  towering  dahlias,  pink  and  yellow  and  crimson  and  white,  with 
phlox  of  varying  tints  before  them.  Snapdragons,  larkspur,  and 

marigolds  fill  in  all  spaces  to  the  lobelia  border  on  the  southern 

97 


0    I      R       C    O    U    X    T    R    Y       HOME 

side,  while  on  the  northern  side  of  the  garden  grow  the  nicotine, 
white  and  pink  and  purple,  so  deliriously  fragrant  in  the  starlight, 
a  group  of  hyacinthus  candicans.  and  masses  of  peonies  and  mari- 
golds, the  African  anil  French,  and  sanvitalia.  which  if  it  isn't  a 
marigold  ought  to  he.  it  is  so  like  a  bal>y  sister.  Lilies  spring  up 
unexpectedly  everywhere  among  the  peony  leaves,  the  auratum. 
the  speciosnm  album,  and  rubruni:  even  the  tiger  lily  appeared 
one  <eason.  where  from  no  man  could  tell.  On  each  side  of  the 
forest  gateway  a  white,  crushy  rose,  the  blanc  double  De  Coubert. 
blossoms  all  summer  through.  The  boltonias  and  golden  glow 
topple  over  the  wall  toward  it,  and  the  Japanese  clematis  is 
kept  from  strangling  it  only  by  constant  vigilance.  The  duty  of 
the  clematis  is  to  cover  the  gate-posts;  and  by  the  aid  of  strings 
tightly  drawn  it  does  so  in  exquisite  beauty.  Here  blossoms  the 
pale  blue  salvia,  beloved  by  the  bee-,  and  in  September  the  Japan- 
e-e  anemone  and  hardy  chrysanthemums. 

The  squirrels  and  the  chipmunks  like  the  walks  in  the  little 
garden.  They  amble  around  the  fountain  and  scud  alon^r  the 
bare  bricks.  The  robins  and  the  catbirds  find  good  eating  in  the 
mossy  interstices  and  hop  gravely  out  through  the  forest  gateway 
tc  their  homes  not  far  awa\. 

There  is  something  about  a  garden  which  brings  out  the  gen- 
uine side  of  a  person's  nature.  It  is  impossible  to  be  formal  or 
artificial  in  the  presence  of  the  plants  you  work  over  yourself. 

To  my  shame  be  it  said  that  there  are  a  few  flowers  which  I 

98 


,11  >r  01  •[•sun:   run  KOK.M  vi.  GAKUKN 


FROM   MY   WINDOW 


THE       FORMAL       GARDEN 

positively  detest.  Zinnias,  except  the  burnt  orange  and  yellow 
varieties,  I  can  not  endure.  Neither  have  I  any  patience  with  the 
weak-backed  asters  that  can  not  stand  the  least  rain,  but  hang 
down  their  mud-bespattered  faces ;  nor  with  the  sickly  ageratums, 
even  the  best  of  which  fail  so  utterly  to  live  up  to  their  title  of  blue. 

We  get  a  world  of  entertainment  trying  experiments  in  this 
little  garden.  For  the  four  small  beds  we  want  something  that 
will  be  a  mass  of  blossom  from  June  to  frost,  and  that  is  not  so  easy 
to  find.  We  agreed  to  put  petunias  in  one  bed,  they  are  so  fragrant, 
and  the  "  rosy  dawn  "  variety  is  a  lovely  clear  pink.  Of  course, 
they  will  sprawl  over  the  edge  late  in  the  season  and  grow  a  little 
yellow  and  brown  through  the  middle,  but  altogether  they  are  quite 
satisfactory  and  require  no  snipping. 

Every  year  I  say  I  will  not  have  another  of  those  careless 
china  pinks,  but  every  Spring  when  I  see  their  cheerful  faces  and 
clear  bright  colors  I  succumb,  and  that  is  the  end  of  my  leisure. 
With  care  —  which  means  at  least  an  hour  a  day  without  a  break — 
in  snipping  off  dead  blossoms,  these  also  last  until  the  frost. 

The  other  two  beds  have  had  many  tenants.  Yellow  is  ray 
favorite  color,  and  one  bed  of  that  tint  we  must  have.  One  year 
the  golden-ball  chrysanthemums  bloomed  from  the  fifth  of 
June  to  the  eleventh  of  August,  when  the  rain  demolished  them. 
Nothing  could  have  been  more  glowing  than  this  mass  of  yellow 
flowers  and  finely  cut  green  leaves.  They  require  much  care, 
for  they  must  not  be  allowed  to  go  to  seed.  Another  year  the 

California  poppy  outshone  the  sun  most  of  the  summer  through; 

101 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

but  this  must  be  seeded  anew  each  year  and  is  apt  to  grow  straggly 
hv  August.  The  baby  rambler  put  forth  its  big  bunches  of  crim- 
son flowers  for  one  season,  but  I  could  never  keep  the  faded  ones 
cut,  and  they  did  not  cover  the  ground  quite  enough  to  be  satisfac- 
tory. Once  we  had  snapdragon  —  dwarf  snapdragon,  I  want  to 
emphasize,  —  but  owing  to  either  the  too  favorable  conditions  or  a 
mistake  in  the  seed,  great  stalks  shot  up  and  lopped  over  and  lay 
down,  until  I  was  quite  in  despair.  I  did  not  want  to  stake  them, 
for  it  would  have  looked  like  a  beanpole  patch,  and  I  could  not 
peg  them.  I  like  snapdragons  too  in  their  proper  place. 

A  woodbine  hangs  its  strands  gracefully  over  the  wall  at  the 
foot  of  the  terrace  steps,  and  the  white  jasmine  reaches  out  from 
under  the  wild  cherry  tree  until  their  leaves  mingle.  A  tall  high- 
bush  cranberry  stands  sentinel  behind  the  bleeding-hearts,  and  over 
the  northern  wall  the  euonymus  radicans  struggles  to  climb.  A 
big  clump  of  elms  is  entirely  out  of  keeping  in  a  tiny  formal 
garden;  but  here  my  old  prejudice  sways  me.  We  found  it  there, 
and  I  cannot  bear  to  cut  it  down.  Moreover,  it  is  usually  full  of 
birds,  and  shelters  a  nest  or  two  in  its  thick  foliage.  Still  farther 
on.  beyond  the  kitchen  house,  the  service-yard  wall  of  rough 
plaster,  six  feet  high,  extends  to  the  west.  The  woodbine  clam- 
bers over  it  and  fringes  the  old  monastery  doorway,  low  arched, 
and  brown  and  banded  with  long  iron  hinges.  In  front  of  the  wall 
stand  hollyhocks  between  high  lilac  bushes  and  the  wild  rudbeck- 
ias,  Newmanni  and  triloba  and  sub-tomentosa. 

Just  outside  the  formal  garden  to  the  west  are  Shasta  daisies, 

102 


IX    WIXTKR    COSTl.MK 


LONG    STKANDS    OF    \ViMUllIXi-; 


THE       FORMAL       GARDEN 

the  cultivated  evening  primrose,  the  yellow  loosestrife,  Achillea 
the  pearl,  the  pink  spiraea  and  the  blue  wild  indigo,  all  running 
riot  as  if  they  had  escaped  from  man's  control  and  were  having  a 
good  time  by  themselves.  Beside  the  path  leading  into  the  for- 
est, grow  demurely  the  prim  clumps  of  showy  stonecrop,  setting  the 
example  as  it  were  in  the  midst  of  all  this  frivolity.  But  the  yellow 
buttercups  dance  on  undismayed.  The  Sieboldei  polvgonuro 
from  Japan,  rustles  her  cloud  of  white  blossoms,  and  a  clump  of 
wild  gooseberry  under  the  maples  and  hickories  tell  us  we  have 
reached  the  woods  again. 

That  first  frost  of  Autumn,  how  unnecessary  it  seems!  In 
the  morning  the  garden  was  a  blaze  of  marigolds  and  dahlias; 
the  Japanese  anemones  and  blue  sal  via,  the  saucy  petunias  and 
phlox  seemed  to  speak  of  midsummer.  The  plentiful  buds  of  the 
chrysanthemums  almost  convinced  one  that  the  blossoming  sea- 
son was  just  beginning, —  only  the  feathery  masses  of  the  clematis 
and  the  rich  red  of  the  Virginia  creeper  on  the  wall  told  us  that 
Autumn  had  come.  Suddenly  a  wind  arose  out  of  the  north,  bring- 
ing a  chill  of  ice.  Surely  there  could  be  no  frost  with  this  gale,  but 
all  the  tender  plants  in  pots  were  carried  quickly  under  cover,  the 
great  sheets  of  cheese-cloth  and  canvas  were  spread  wherever 
possible,  and  the  wind  died  down.  Brilliant  starlight  followed, 
with  crisp  air  —  exhilarating  to  us,  but  not  to  the  garden!  Alas! 
the  daylight  disclosed  a  piteous  spectacle.  All  the  proud  dahlias 
bent  black  against  their  posts,  the  anemones  hung  their  waxen 

heads,  the  marigolds  fell  in  limp  dismay,  there  was  even   a  film 

10.5 


o  r  K 


COUNTRY       H    O    M    E 


of  ice  over  the  pool  of  the  fountain,  and  the  goldfish  sought  the 
shelter  of  the  bedraggled  rose  geraniums  which  hung  miserably 
over  the  chilly  coping.  Only  the  phlox  here  and  there  held  up  its 
cheery  head,  and  the  chrysanthemums  looked  on  calm  and  un- 
moved as  if  to  say:  "What  did  you  expect?  That  the  summer 
would  last  always?  Cut  down  the  withered  dahlias,  they  have 
done  their  work  for  this  year  and  will  rest  until  another  springtime. 
Look  yonder  on  the  brilliant  maple  leaves,  the  glowing  sumac 
and  yellow  hickory,  for  this  is  what  the  Frost  King  has  done  for 
your  pleasure  and  your  delight. 

"  When  do  the  roses  rest  here  ?  "  I  asked  an  Italian  in  Rome, 
translating  literally. 

"Oh,  how  sentimental  you  Americans  are!"  he  answered. 
"  We  never  use  such  an  expression  in  regard  to  flowers.  " 

Perhaps  because  the  roses  never  do  stop  blooming  entirely, 
in  Italy;  but  after  all  I  like  our  changing  seasons  best,  and  I  like 
our  thoughts  of  the  flowers  as  beings  that  rest  and  work,  that  sleep 
and  waken  as  do  we  ourselves. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
THE  PERGOLA. 

FROM  the  out-of-door  dining-room,  following  the  outline  of 
the  house,  extending  along  the  west  side  of  the  lawn,  runs 
the  rustic  pergola.  Built  from  the  trees  which  we  had  been  ob- 
liged to  cut,  their  bark  left  on,  the  larger  ones  for  the  posts  sunk  four 
feet  in  the  ground  and  placed  ten  feet  apart,  the  smaller  ones  for  the 
roof  projecting  three  feet  on  either  side,  it  did  look  at  first  quite 
bare  and  hopeless.  As  a  neighboring  farmer  put  it :  ''  A  nice  lot 
of  wood  you  have  there,  but  I  should  n't  say  it  was  piled  real 
economical.  " 

This  arbor,  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  long  and  twelve  feet 
wide,  would  in  time,  we  felt  sure,  make  a  fine  support  for  the  vines, 
a  good  background  for  the  hardy  border,  and  link  the  wild  woods 
with  the  smooth  expanse  of  lawn.  Paved  with  brick,  laid  herring- 
bone fashion  in  sand,  it  became  a  favorite  walk  on  dewy  mornings. 
Company  in  plenty  WBS  always  there.  In  early  Spring  the  rob- 
ins were  busy  with  their  nests  and  broods  overhead,  yellow  warb- 
lers flitted  in  and  out  of  the  climbing  roses,  the  grosbeak  and  his 

little  brown  mate  sought  a  building-site,  and  a  pair  of  thrushes  were 

107 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

sure  to  float  down  to  the  hollow  boulder  near,  for  their  daily  splash. 
All  summer  long,  gray  squirrels  ran  over  the  loosely-laid  rafters,  and 
chipmunks  rustled  in  the  leaves,  to  appear  before  one,  and  squeal 
for  the  accustomed  nut.  In  the  early  Fall  the  Louisiana  water 
thrush  teetered  under  the  salvia  blossoms,  and  chickadees  called 
merrily  from  the  tall  dry  sunflowers  in  the  woods  close  by.  The 
yellow  leaves  came  tumbling  down,  the  bending  oak  was  crimson 
against  the  sky,  and  we  said,  "  Can  any  season  be  more  beautiful 
than  Fall  ?  " 

In  winter,  under  the  snow,  the  pergola  was  still  more  pictur- 
esque. Blue  shadows  lay  on  the  glistening  ground,  and  every  cranny 
and  tiny  crack  was  filled  with  soft  white  powdery  flakes.  The 
oak  leaves  rustled  in  the  sharp  air,  the  sky  was  all  a  wonderful  blue, 
the  trunks  of  the  trees  were  velvety  black,  and  every  blade  and 
leaf  and  twig  was  glistening  with  ice  in  the  sunshine. 

But,  after  all,  midsummer  finds  it  in  its  glory.  All  about  the 
posts  are  twined  the  wild  virgin's  bower,  with  its  cousin  from  Japan, 
a  little  clematis  Jackmanni  and  the  pure  white  Henryi;  the  wood- 
bine of  course,  and  the  wild  grape,  the  akebia  quinata  and  the 
rampant  kudzu  vine;  the  old-fashioned  Prairie  Queen  rose  and 
the  Baltimore  Belle  and  the  crimson  rambler  in  splendid  great 
sprays  of  bloom  twenty  feet  long;  plenty  of  eglantine,  delicious 
under  the  hot  sun,  the  northern  fox  and  the  Niagara  grape  and 
that  splendid  climber,  the  trumpet-vine. 

At  one  end,  by  the  house,  is  a  small  terra  cotta  wall-fountain 

108 


THK    PKRCOLA    IN*    \YINTKK 


A    MEANS    OK    PROTI-XT1ON 


THE       PERGOLA 

from  Florence,  and  a  convenient  bench;  at  the  other  the  pergola 
broadens  into  a  square  tea-house  with  old  wooden  seats  in  the 
corners,  a  stump  for  a  table,  and  in  the  centre  a  spikenard  from 
the  woods,  growing  in  one  of  Nature's  jardiniere*. 

To  the  north  a  narrow  path  leads  from  this  end  of  the  pergola. 


THE   WOODSY   SIDE   OF   THE   PERGOLA 


under  the  lindens  and  maples,  to  the  kitchen  garden  not  far  away; 
while  on  the  west  another  path  lined  with  meadow-rue,  columbine, 
and  the  spikenard,  connects  with  the  service  road  and  cottage  and 
upper  garden. 

On  the  woodsy  side  of  the  pergola  grow  the  golden  glow,  and 

plumed  poppy,  the  tall  Eulalia  grass,  and  the  plumed  ravenna  reed, 

111 


OUR       CO    i:    X    T    R    Y        H    ()    M    E 

which  my  grandmother  used  to  call  ribbon  grass.  Here  are  the 
scarlet  balm  and  wild  sunflowers  and  ferns  and  brakes  of  every 
variety,  and  wild  lilies  where  they  like,  the  old  wood  lily  and  the 
vellow  Canada,  the  Turk's  cap,  and  the  Carolina,  the  Grayi  and 
the  Klegans.  Nearer  the  house  are  the  bane- berries,  both  red  and 
white,  the  ginseng  and  columbine  and  Jack-in-the-pulpit,  mixed 
with  violets  and  hepaticas  and  asters  and  golden  rod,  all  blending 
imperceptibly  into  the  underbrush  of  the  thick  woods. 

On  this  side  extends  the  laundry-yard  wall.  What  a  time  I  had 
trying  to  find  a  spot  wherein  to  dry  the  clothes!  It  must  be  in 
the  bright  sun  and  yet  hidden  in  a  corner;  it  must  be  close  to  the 
house  yet  not  visible  from  it.  In  our  dilemma  one  daring  soul 
ventured  to  suggest  a  steam  drying  machine!  In  the  country!  On 
a  seventy-two  acre  lot!  No,  I  scorned  such  a  solution;  with  the 
Constant  Improver's  fertile  brain,  I  knew  in  time  the  right  place 
would  be  found,  and  found  it  was.  All  housekeepers  will  appre- 
ciate my  satisfaction  when  I  was  given  a  grassy  space  flooded  with 
the  southwest  sun  and  enclosed  on  the  east  and  north  by  a  wall  six 
feet  high.  The  English  have  learned  the  beauty  that  lies  in  long 
surfaces  of  wall,  and  do  not  hesitate,  even  in  small  estates,  thus  to 
enclose  the  space  necessary  for  working  purposes.  This  rough 
plaster  wall,  extending  from  the  kitchen-house  some  fifty  feet  to 
the  north  and  topped  by  heavy  brown  timber,  had  at  its  southern 
end  a  dear  old-fashioned  latched  door  of  rough  brown  planks, 

bound  together  with  long  iron  hasps.     On  either  side  of  the  door 

112 


THK  DOOR  TO  THK  LAUNDRY  YARD 


THE  LAUNDRY  YARD 


THE       PERGOLA 

were  inserted  bits  of  plaster  heads  and  the  whole  wall  was  soon 
draped  in  the  prolific  folds  of  the  kudzu  vine.  The  grassy  yard 
was  so  bare,  so  clean,  so  practical!  What  was  ray  astonishment 
to  discover  one  morning  a  thrifty  rose  vine,  climbing  vigorously 
up  in  the  corner!  Now  roses  are  one  of  ray  treasures,  but  not  in 
my  laundry  yard,  as  thorns  and  clothes  and  wind  are  not  a 
felicitous  combination.  I  protested,  but  the  Constant  Improver 
said  it  was  such  a  sunny  corner,  he  didn't  believe  the  clothes  would 
get  torn.  Wouldn't  I  let  it  stay  for  a  month  and  see  ?  This 
sounded  reasonable  enough,  and  I  gave  orders  that  his  clothes 
should  be  hung  nearest  that  sunniest  corner.  The  rose  grew 
and  flourished,  it  put  forth  great  bunches  of  sweet  blossoms,  it 
also  sent  out  long  stalks;  but  the  Constant  Improver  as  usual  was 
right,  and  no  damage  was  done.  So  now  we  have  a  whole  row 
of  roses  on  the  south  side  of  the  laundry  wall,  and  the  effect  is 
charming. 

On  the  east  side  of  the  pergola  lies  the  hardy  border,  in  irregu- 
lar outline.  The  lawn  creeps  up  to  the  edge  of  the  brick  walk 
temptingly  in  two  or  three  places  as  if  to  say,  ''Come  try  my 
yielding  turf;  let  your  foot  sink  into  the  clover  deep;  come  hunt 
for  the  mushroom's  fairy  ring,  and  see  for  yourself  how  the 
violet  blows." 

Every  three  years  the  hardy  border  is  trenched  two  feet  down. 
fertili/ed  and  replanted,  the  peonies  only  are  not  disturbed,  nor 

the  vines,  of  course,  nor  the  old-fashioned  yellow  roses.     On  the 

115 


OUR       C    O    U    N    T    R    Y       HOME 

outer  edge  along  its  entire  length  the  yellow  jonquils  blossom  in 
the  early  Spring.  Under  the  bending  oak  and  straight  young 
maple  tree,  where  the  vines  did  not  get  enough  light  to  cover  well 
the  posts,  we  put  a  high-bush  cranberry  and  a  Sieboldei  polygo- 
num,  supposed  to  be  a  dwarf,  but  it  turned  out  to  be  a  verb  instead 
of  a  noun,  and  dwarfed  everything  within  reach  of  its  roots. 

This  border  is  an  everlasting  topic  of  discussion.  Every  year 
we  try  something  new;  it  is  so  tempting  an  experimental  station. 
Do  the  results  ever  equal  the  highly  colored  prints  in  the  seed  cata- 
logues ?  Much  less  would  satisfy  us.  With  a  space  over  two 
hundred  feet  long  and  from  four  to  six  feet  wide  there  certainly 
should  be  room  for  everything.  But  we  like  great  masses  of  color. 
Twenty  feet  of  cherry  phlox  against  as  many  Shasta  daisies; 
quantities  of  Sweet  Williams  and  pyrethrums;  a  big  patch  of  colum- 
bines with  their  varied  blooms  and  finely  cut  foliage,  the  old- 
fashioned  favorite,  with  the  pale  yellow  variety,  and  the  exquisite 
blue,  sent  to  us  by  a  friend  from  Colorado.  It  was  quite  a  revela- 
tion to  us  to  find  seven  different  species  of  columbines,  thus 
prolonging  their  season  from  May  to  September.  Gradually  they 
seem  to  have  been  trained  to  lift  their  modest  heads  until  one  pure 
white  variety  frankly  looks  up  at  the  sunshine  and  is  not  afraid. 
One  July  morning  I  counted  one  hundred  and  sixteen  Madonna 
lilies  rising  from  the  peony  clumps,  and  later  the  Japanese  golden- 
banded  variety  took  their  places. 

All  hardy  borders  should   have  plenty  of  white  and  yellow 

116 


THE  BALTIMORE  HKLLE 


THE  ROOF  IN  OCTOBER 


THE       PERGOLA 

flowers,  they  blend  with  everything  else  and  separate  any  clashing 
colors.  The  scarlet  of  the  Oriental  poppies,  the  lychnis,  and  the 
salvia  need  careful  management.  They  should  have  a  far  corner 
to  themselves,  in  the  midst  of  fine  greenery.  Along  the  brick  walk 
the  star  of  Bethlehem  opens  to  the  early  sunshine,  and  the  Virginia 
waterleaf  lifts  her  cups  of  nectar  to  the  knowing  bees. 

At  the  farther  end  of  the  border  were  sonic  curious  flat  mul- 
lein-like rosettes  which  I  watched  all  one  summer,  but  nothing 
happened.  The  rain  and  heavy  dew  rested  in  great  globules  on 
their  thick  hairy  leaves,  the  sun  shone  as  encouragingly  upon  them 
as  on  the  blossoms  of  the  yellow  cliamomile  close  by,  but  it  was 
not  until  the  following  year  that  my  patience  was  rewarded.  In  a 
night,  apparently,  a  tall  spray  some  two  to  three  feet  high  suddenl  y 
shot  from  the  middle  of  each  rough  rosette,  bearing  graceful  rows 
of  curious  long-lipped  creamy  flowers,  and  the  battle  of  the  bees 
began.  This  white  salvia  is  most  amusing, — such  masking  of 
batteries,  such  bombarding  of  pollen;  and,  at  the  close,  both 
parties  are  victorious. 

How  many  blue  flowers  we  find  in  this  hardy  border!  The 
Greek  valerian,  sent  by  a  dear  friend  from  the  White  Mountains, 
has  taken  kindly  to  its  new  home,  and  in  the  middle  of  May  fifty 
great  clusters  of  delicate  blossoms  greeted  us  at  once.  The  whole 
tribe  of  larkspur  is  a  delight.  To  our  surprise  even  the  annuals 
sowed  themselves  this  year  under  the  sweet-brier  bushes  and  put 

forth  great  stalks  of  pure  pink  the  exact  tone  of  the  roses  above. 

119 


OUR       COUNTRY        HOME 

They  grow  also  in  deep  purple  and  pale  lavender  and  greenish 
white;  while  the  perennials  in  immense  long  spikes  of  indescribable 
pinks  and  blues,  and  pure  blues,  and  blue-and-purples,  blossomed 
gayly  twice  during  the  season.  The  Chinese  is  perhaps  my 
favorite,  the  color  is  so  pure  and  it  lasts  for  days.  The  Canter- 
bury bells  are  another  joyous  family,  from  the  baby  harebells 
faintlv  tinkling  in  the  grass  to  the  ten-foot  stalks  of  the  pyramidal, 
blue  and  white  and  gaudy.  The  rampion  in  the  herb  garden  is  a 
humble  relative,  and  the  Chinese  bellflowers  both  blue  and  white, 
single  and  double,  carry  on  the  family  characteristics.  The  vero- 
nica too  is  a  most  exquisite  shade  either  in  the  tall  or  dwarf  species, 
and  keeps  green  after  even  ten  degrees  of  frost. 

Fortunately  we  are  allowed  to  cut  flowers  from  the  hardy  bor- 
der, and  the  Constant  Improver  looks  most  picturesque,  though 
quite  unconscious,  as  he  saunters  down  the  shadowy  walk  laden 
with  great  stalks  of  blazing  star,  or  leopard's  bane,  or  the  obedient 
plant  whose  blossoms  stay  whichever  side  of  the  stalk  the  wind 
or  the  mischievous  boy  may  place  them. 

The  pergola  is  a  favorite  racing  stretch  for  our  boy  visitors. 
One,  two,  three,  and  away  from  the  stone  bench  to  the  goal, —  the 
stump  at  the  farther  end.  The  young  girls  in  white  frocks,  their 
amis  about  each  other's  waist,  exchange  confidences,  as  they 
stroll  demurely  back  and  forth:  the  shadows  from  the  vine-hung 
rafters  touch  them  gently  as  they  pass.  Even  our  "most  grave 
and  reverend  seigneurs"  I  find  pacing  up  and  down  the  moss- 


THK    I'KRGOI.A    BROADENS    INTO    A    SQl'AHK    TEA-HOTSE 


AT    ONE    END    IS    A    SMALL    WALL    FOTNTAIN 


THE       PERGOLA 

edged  walk,  drinking  in  the  fragrant  air  of  early  morning.  Some- 
times they  are  nature-loving  "  seigneurs  "  and  come  in  with  bunches 
of  "  yellow  daisies, "  as  they  eall  the  lance-leaved  coreopsis  which 
apparently  grows  wild  in  every  spare  corner,  the  whole  length  of 
the  hardy  border. 

Down  through  the  pergola  comes  every  morning  the  kitchen- 
gardener  laden  with  his  baskets  of  freshly  gathered  fruits  and  vege- 
tables. If  the  children  are  near,  they  rush  to  meet  him  begging 
a  few  strawberries  or  raspberries  for  their  doll's  tea-party  on  the 
stone  bench  under  the  Florentine  fountain.  Every  one  knows  how 
hungry  dolls  get  about  the  middle  of  the  morning,  and  here  are  food 
and  drink  in  one.  Such  an  opportunity  must  not  be  neglected! 

The  only  thing  which  one  very  conventional  lady  could  find  to 
admire  about  our  place  was  the  smooth  acre  of  turf  which  lay  at 
the  back  of  the  house  and  was  bounded  by  the  hardy  border  of  the 
pergola  on  the  west,  and  the  woods  on  the  other  two  sides,  making 
the  foil,  the  contrasting  element  to  all  our  wildne<-. 

Not  but  what  we  had  pleasures  and  pictures  on  the  lawn  too. 
Could  anything  be  more  graceful  than  the  squirrel's  leap  or  the 
sweeping  Hash  of  the  tanager  -  In  early  Fall  the  marigolds  and 
salvia.  rilling  in  all  bare  spaces  along  the  lumly  border,  are  a  favor- 
ite field  for  the  humming-birds,  and  the  Xew  England  asters'  rich 
purple  attracts  the  white  butterflies  by  the  hundred.  With  what 
keen  pleasure  we  watch  the  rhythmic  ^wing  of  the  long  rake  as  it 
gathers  into  heaps  the  freshly  mown  grass,  or  the  slow  moving 

of  the  low  latticed  leaf-cart  on  its  broad  tire-! 

183 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

After  a  rain  in  October,  indeed  during  it,  if  possible,  the  sower 
with  his  big  bag  of  grass  seed  under  his  arm  appears  at  the  end  of 
the  pergola  and,  stepping  on  to  the  lawn,  slowly  crosses  it,  back 
and  forth,  throwing  in  graceful  curves  the  clouds  of  fine  grass  seed, 
hunting  out  the  brown  spots  whore  the  dandelions  have  flourished 
and  carefully  avoiding  the  mushrooms  cropping  out  in  all  sorts  of 
unexpected  places.  Finally  the  bag  is  empty,  turned  inside  out 
with  a  parting  shake,  and  the  old  sou'wester  and  slouch  hat  dis- 
appear slowly  down  the  winding  path,  in  search  of  further  work. 

Somehow,  few  of  our  guests  seem  to  feel  its  importance  when  I 
announce  the  great  events  happening  in  our  daily  existence.  For 
instance,  when  I  exclaim,  "The  small  thrushes  in  the  long-path 
nest  sailed  out  into  the  world  to-day,  "  or  "  There  are  ninety-three 
blossoms  on  that  one  spray  of  crimson  ramblers  over  the  south  ter- 
race wall,"  or  ''The  first  monkshood  opened  this  morning,"  our 
visitors  politely  answer:  "Indeed!"  but  I  can  feel  their  thoughts 
are  wandering.  Only  a  few  really  enter  into  our  inner  joyous 
eventful  life,  where  each  day  brings  forth  a  revelation  and  a  miracle. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
THE  GRAVEL  PIT. 

FROM  the  lawn  behind  the  linden  tree  a  winding  eastward 
path,  thick  with  low  underbrush  and  carpeted  in  Spring  with 
violets  and  liverwort,  leads  in  and  out  among  the  big  trees,  across 
the  roadway,  through  the  Iris  Glade,  to  the  Gravel  Pit.  Every 
May  all  wood  paths  have  to  be  cut,  for  the  wild-flowers  take  special 
pleasure  in  open  spaces,  and  one  can  hardly  walk  without  stepping 
on  some  treasure  of  the  wilderness.  The  paths  are  made  by 
swinging  a  scythe  from  side  to  side.  The  Constant  Improver 
chooses  the  Avay,  then  conies  the  scythe,  and  I  as  Ruth  follow, 
gleaning  my  precious  harvest  for  the  household  vases. 

The  iris  glade  is  a  feast  of  color,  from  late  April  through  May 
and  June  and  July,  until  the  early  part  of  August.  The  different 
varieties  are  planted  side  by  side,  so  that  when  the  earlier  ones 

fade,  the  next  to  bloom  straightway  take  their  places.     The  Ger- 

12.5 


OUR       COUNTRY       HO    M    E 

man.  the  Spanish,  the  English,  the  Japanese,  with  their  wonderfully 
varied  combinations  of  purple  and  yellow  and  brown  and  white. 
how  indescribable  they  are!  What  impression  could  a  blind  per- 
son get  from  the  technical  description  of  an  iris?  Take  one  of 
the  commoner  species,  the  Sibirica:  "Limb  bright  lilac  blue: 
outer  segments  one  and  one  half  to  two  inches  long,  with  an  orbic- 
ular blade  graduallv  narrowed  to  a  slender  chnv.  veined  with 
bright  violet,  whitish  toward  the  claw:  inner  segments  shorter, 
erect."  Could  the  inadequacy  of  language  go  further?  In  and 
out  of  the  grassy  hollows,  following  the  windings  of  the  brook  on 
either  side,  these  brilliant  blossoms  extend  for  about  two  hundred 
feet.  Over  nine  thousand  bulbs  and  rhizomes  were  planted  and 
they  increase  from  year  to  year.  In  our  imagination  vast  field-; 
of  fleurs-de-lis  stretch  before  us,  and  we  stand  in  ecstasv  amoii"- 

• 

their  gorgeous  velvety  blooms. 

On  the  north,  where  the  brook  makes  a  sudden  turn,  thick 
plantations  of  sumac  hide  the  gravel  pit.  This  was  once  a  hole 
in  the  ground,  the  worst  kind  of  a  hole  in  the  ground,  one  with 
steep  ragged  edges,  where  the  sand  had  fallen  away  from  the  root- 
lets, leaving  them  to  hang  helplessly  and  move  restlessly  in  the  air. 
A  rutty,  ugly  road  led  into  the  pit  from  the  main  avenue,  and  the 
water  lay,  a  dismal  pool,  some  six  feet  deep,  over  its  muddy  bottom. 
We  had  taken  over  five  thousand  cubic  yards  of  gravel  and  soil  out  of 
this  gravel  pit,  leaving  an  excavation  about  seventy  by  one  lumdivd 
and  fifty  feet,  and  about  eighteen  feet  deep.  We  looked  at  it  from 

126 


IX    AXn    OUT   OF   THE    GRASSY    HOLLOWS 


THE    IRIS    GLADE 


THE       GRAVEL       PIT 

all  sides,  and  every  time  we  looked  it  seemed  more  hideous.  Half 
a  dozen  stumps  partly  submerged,  struggled  to  put  forth  a  bit  of 
greenness.  All  about  the  high  banks,  big  trees  gazed  pityingly 
down  upon  the  desolation  below,  half  bending  over  as  if  in  an 
attempt  to  cover  its  unkempt  state.  Here  huge  thistles  towered, 
the  ragweed  flourished,  and  the  burdock  grew  six  feet  in  height; 
long  blackberry  branches  clambered  and  twisted,  and  the  plantain, 
ever  faithful,  industriously  struggled  to  cover  as  much  as  possible 
of  the  rudely  disturbed  soil.  Nature,  if  left  alone,  would  in  twenty 
years,  possibly  in  ten,  have  made  this  an  attractive  spot;  why  not 
examine  her  methods,  find  out  what  she  would  do,  see  how  she 
does  it,  and  try  it  ourselves  at  once  ?  The  Constant  Improver  was 
charmed  with  the  idea. 

We  spent  many  days  in  preliminary  study  and  at  length  decided 
on  our  plan  of  work.  First,  tile  had  to  be  put  in  so  that  there 
might  be  no  stagnant  water.  The  whole  bottom  with  the  ap- 
proaches at  each  end  was  ploughed  up,  and  the  land  graded  in  a 
gentle  sweep.  We  watched  with  deepest  interest  the  scrapers 
transferring  the  soil  from  one  part  of  the  pit  to  another.  We  ad- 
mired the  strong  horses  tugging  at  the  call  of  the  men.  "  Git-dap, 
Maud!"  one  would  cry  and  the  feminine  leader  would  respond 
nobly,  bending  her  utmost  energies  to  the  task.  Over  and  over 
again,  backward  and  forward,  went  the  horses  and  the  shovels. 
It  was  many  a  day  before  the  ugly  old  rutty  road  became  a  soft 

hollow,  thick  with  green  clover,  and  bordered  with  brakes  and 

129 


O    U    R       COUNTRY        II    O    M    E 

blackberry  vines.  A  footpath  through  the  middle  led  to  the 
gravel  pit  itself. 

After  the  bottom  of  the  pit  had  been  filled  in  about  four  feet, 
three  sloping  landslides  were  made,  one  on  the  east  and  two  on  the 
west,  irregularly  arranged  as  if  in  some  storm  they  had  slipped 
down  from  the  steep  overhanging  sides.  On  these,  huge  boulders 
were  placed,  just  as  they  once  lay  half  buried  in  the  soil,  a  part  of 
the  glacial  deposit  which  swept  down  from  the  Lake  Superior 
region  in  bygone  ages,  bringing  curiously  wrought  limestone  and 
rounded  granite  boulders  to  this  rich,  stoneless  prairie. 

The  only  native  evergreens  on  the  place  when  we  took  posses- 
sion were  two  small  cedars  about  ten  feet  high;  these  we  carefully 
protected  during  the  building  operations,  as  one  happened  to  be 
close  by  the  cottage  and  the  other  at  our  own  front  door.  Later 
we  supplemented  these  by  a  young  plantation  of  white  pine  and 
spruce  as  well  as  cedars,  on  the  western  boundary,  and  here  in  the 
gravel  pit,  among  the  boulders,  we  planted  more  cedars  with  dwarf 
pines,  junipers,  and  spruce.  Here  also  we  found  room  for  some 
laurels  as  an  experiment,  and  a  native  cactus ;  Leucothoe,  Cates- 
baei,  whose  dark  green  leaves  are  edged  in  November  with  a  rich 
plum  color;  the  Andromeda  floribunda;  the  bright  little  partridge- 
berry;  the  rattlesnake  plantain,  and  valerian,  both  white  and  pink, 
which  sprawls  over  the  ground  delightfully  and  keeps  green  into 
December.  All  through  Touraine  this  great  vine-like  plant  covers 
the  ruined  walls  and  bare  rocky  hillsides.  I  remember  particu- 


130 


WHKHK   TIIK    BROOK    MAKES    A    SUDDKX    TURN 


THF.  i. VXD  <;R.\DKD  i\  .v  GEXTLE  SWEEP 


THE       GRAVEL       PIT 

larly,  over  the  moat  at  Chenonceaux  and  on  the  old  ramparts  of 
Luynes,  its  masses  of  ivy-like  branches  with  many  shades  of  pink 
and  white  blossoms. 

We  brought  to  the  gravel  pit  all  manner  of  ferns,  from  the  tiny 
sweet-scented  shield-fern  to  the  huge  brake  from  the  swamps,  also 
wild  columbines,  by  hundreds.  We  put  in  two  hundred  and 
fifty  cardinal-flowers  raised  in  the  green-house  from  seed,  as  we 
wanted  color  at  once;  the  blossoming  stalks  grew  two  feet  high  and 
made  a  brave  showing.  We  expect  they  will  seed  and  give  us  a 
yearly  account  of  themselves  but  —  noun  verrons. 

Lower  down  in  the  hollow  we  planted  the  meadow  rue  and 
ribbon  grass;  opposite,  the  pink  lady's-slipper,  two  hundred 
bulbs;  we  even  transplanted  budding  fringed  gentian  from  the 
swamp  ten  miles  away,  and  it  did  well  and  seeded,  —  but  where, 
only  the  future  can  tell.  Beyond  came  tall  grasses  with  plumy 
blossoms  in  October,  the  bamboo-like  donax  reed,  and  the  cow- 
parsnip.  It  is  shameful  that  so  effective  a  cluster  of  flowers,  so 
richly  decorative  a  plant  with  its  acanthus-like  leaves  should  be 
cursed  with  such  a  name. 

Above  on  the  east  the  barberry  bushes,  red-stemmed  dog- 
woods, the  wild  gooseberries,  and  linden  clumps,  the  polygonum 
Sieboldei,  and  young  hickory  shoots  looked  down  in  approval  at 
our  work.  The  hickory  bough  in  the  springtime,  with  its  bursting 
buds,  its  rich  variety  of  tones,  and  its  curiously  folded  leaves,  is 

like  a  bouquet  of  wonderful  orchids. 

133 


OUR       (      0    U    X    T    R    Y        H    O    M    E 

On  the  highest  part  of  the  bluff,  at  the  west,  a  cyclone  has, 
apparently,  broken  down  one  of  the  big  trees  about  twenty  feet 
from  the  ground,  and  in  falling  it  has  caught  another  smaller  tree, 
making  a  tangle  of  roots  and  stumps  and  branches  which  we 
planted  all  along  its  seventy  feet  with  trumpet-vines  and  wild  grape. 


THIS   CYCLONE-LIKE   EFFECT 


It  requires  only  a  little  imagination  to  see  the  swinging  green  cur- 
tain and  orange  bells  which  soon  will  still  further  shut  in  this  se- 
cluded spot.  I  am  sure  in  five  years  it  will  be  difficult  to  convince 
people  that  any  part  of  this  cyclone-like  effect  was  artificial,  that 
actually  with  chains  and  pulley  we  hoisted  that  lower  tree,  to  be 
crushed  down  by  the  higher  one,  most  carefully  marked  and  cut 

and  pulled  over  to  a  special  point. 

134 


HCGK    UOrLDKKS    \VKKK    PLACED 


THE   GRAVEL  PIT  FINISHED 


THE       GRAVEL       PIT 

It  is  so  quiet  here  that  the  birds  are  perfectly  at  home.  The 
scarlet  tanager  sweeps  down  to  drink  under  the  water-tap  left 
purposely  aleak,  the  oriole  calls  from  her  swinging  nest  and  the 
white-throated  sparrows  flutter  among  the  sumac  bushes.  In  Sep- 
tember the  warblers  arrive  in  flocks  and  hie  them  to  the  curled-up 
leaves  of  the  linden,  and  the  goldfinches  are  busy  with  the  aster 
seeds.  The  nuthatch  runs  up  and  down  the  fallen  tree  trunk  and 
turns  his  head  with  many  a  pert  inquiry  as  to  my  intentions;  but  I 
sit  perfectly  still,  restraining  my  excitement  when  the  redstarts 
flutter  down  close  to  me,  or  even  when  a  woodchuck  slowly  emerges 
from  behind  a  boulder  not  far  away.  Scattered  about  the  rocky  hol- 
low all  kinds  of  wild  sunflowers  and  black-eyed  Susans  are  planted, 
and  here  in  early  Spring  the  poet's  narcissus  nods  to  the  violets 
both  yellow  and  blue.  The  lobelia  and  the  golden-rod,  the  thimble 
weed  and  the  catnip,  cinquefoil  and  agrimony,  the  wild  pepper- 
mint and  the  figwort,  each  has  its  bit  of  earth;  and  at  the  north  a 
small  buckthorn  grove  leads  to  the  narrow  path  straight  up  the 
hillside,  into  the  deep,  wild  woods. 


CHAPTER  X. 

OF  SHRUBS. 

IN  beginning  most  country  places  the  first  thing  to  be  done  after 
the  water  system  is  in  and  the  land  graded  is  to  plant  trees. 
We  did  not  have  this  to  do;  on  the  contrary  we  had  to  cut  them 
down;  but  we  had  to  plant  shrubs.  The  whole  two  acres  between 
the  house  and  the  lake  was  to  be  a  shrubbery,  with  grassy  paths 
between,  and  everywhere  along  the  edges  of  the  woods  and  the 
borders  of  the  lawn  there  was  to  be  a  wild  tangle  of  shrubs. 

We  did  not  wait  for  the  house  to  be  built,  but  enclosed  the  site 
with  a  temporary  fence,  so  that  all  building  material  might  be 
kept  within  those  limits,  after  which  we  went  on  to  complete  our 
planting.  Every  bush  in  the  shrubbery  was  selected  with  direct 
reference  to  the  needs  of  the  birds,  every  one  must  be  fruit-bearing, 
so  that  during  the  entire  year  there  might  be  a  constant  succession 

of  berries.     From  the  red-berried  elder  in  May,  to  the  Virginia 

138 


ENCLOSED   THE    HOUSE   SITE    WITH    A    KEXCE 


THE   SHRUBHEHY 


OF       SHRUBS 


winterberry  at  Christmas,  and  the  sea  buckthorn  in  the  early  spring, 
there  must  always  be  a  granary  for  the  feathered  folk. 

The  Man  of  Many  Maps  injured  our  feelings  sometimes  by  his 
ruthless  slaughter  of  worthy  objects,  but  he  entered  into  our  ideas 
in  regard  to  the  wildness  of  the  place  so  heartily  that  an  experienced 


MOSTLY    LABELS 


farmer  upon  contemplating  the  finished  product,  was  overheard  to 
say :  "  Some  folks  has  queer  taste,  look  at  the house,  a  reg- 
ular nigger's  cabin,  with  a  front  yard  full  of  weeds ! "  Did  this  affect 
our  enthusiasm  ?  Not  the  least  in  the  world.  We  gazed  at  our 
stubby  little  shrubs  from  one  to  two  feet  high  scattered  through  the 

long  curving  beds,  at  our  grassy  paths  —  mostly  weeds  then  — 

141 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

about  twenty  feet  wide,  for  we  knew  the  expansiveness  of  the  grow- 
ing shrub.  Each  year  taking  a  foot  at  least  from  the  sod,  the 
weedy  spaces  would  soon  resolve  themselves  into  green  alley-ways 
between  tall  overhanging  bushes;  and  when  this  desired  effect  was 
accomplished,  then,  if  too  crowded,  the  plantations  could  be 
thinned  out  by  transplanting. 

There  is  one  shrub  on  the  place  which  strangers  are  sure  to  ask 
about,  and  that  is  the  sea  buckthorn.  It  deserves  to  be  better 
known,  at  least  in  the  West,  for  it  adapts  itself  readily  to  our  fresh- 
water lakes.  Its  brilliant  orange  berries,  clinging  close  to  the  stem 
all  winter  and  ripened  by  frost,  form  a  tempting  feast  for  the  first 
catbirds  and  robins.  Its  silvery  gray  foliage  makes  more  vivid 
the  rich  greens  of  the  forsvthia  and  aralia  pentaphylla  planted 
close  to  it.  On  the  other  side  a  mass  of  wild  olives  eighteen  feet 
in  height  reflects  in  deeper  tones  the  grayish  note  of  the  buckthorn, 
while  across  the  path  the  thick  leaves  of  the  mountain  sumac  shine 
in  the  sunlight,  gorgeous  alike  when  green,  or  in  vivid  autumnal 
tints.  Beyond,  a  clump  of  rosemary  willows  flanked  by  the 
delicate  tamarisk  leads  to  the  huge  Wisconsin  willow  overhang- 
ing the  water. 

Along  the  shore  path  on  the  north,  is  a  tangle  of  wildness, 
mostly  thorny  things,  with  a  tracery  of  brambles  all  through,  which 
leaf  out  early  in  the  spring,  making  green  curves  of  color  amongst 
the  dark  stems  of  the  wrild  olives.  Here  the  sweetbrier  grows  in 
high  towering  sprays,  with  its  rival  the  prairie  rose,  the  dog  rose, 


•^«--7f  m; 


A   TRACERY   OF    BHA.MBLKS 


THE   SKA    BUCKTHORN 


OF       SHRUBS 


too,  with  its  stout  hooked  prickles  and  splendid  scarlet  fruit,  the 
highbush  cranberry  and  the  barberry,  the  winterberry  and  the 
Rocky  Mountain  plum,  the  Missouri  currant  and  the  low  white 
Xew  Jersey  tea.  The  fragrance  of  the  Rhus  aromatica,  the  bay- 
berry,  and  the  sweet  fern  of  Xew  England  —  what  memories  they 
bring  to  us! 

By  the  bridge  leading  to  the  island  a  mass  of  button-bush  grows, 
with  its  white  sweet  balls.  The  lythrum's  tall  pink  spikes,  and 
the  yellow  iris,  the  jewel  weed,  and  the  red-stemmed  dogwood  fol- 
low the  water's  edge  to  the  tangle  of  wild  grapes  and  milkweed, 
where  the  forest  touches  the  lake.  Directly  in  front  of  the  house, 
at  the  water's  edge  we  planted,  literally,  thousands  of  wild  roses, 
the  rosa  blanda  and  Carolina,  lucida  and  humilis. 

I  never  can  decide  which  I  like  the  best,  the  deep  shell  pink  or 
the  ivory  white.  I  go  from  blossom  to  blossom,  scissors  in  hand 
trying  to  make  up  my  mind  to  cut  the  very  choicest  for  the  vases, 
but  —  I  hesitate,  and  the  choicest  ones  remain  on  the  living  bush, 
while  the  soft  summer  breezes  waft  their  delicate  fragrance  through 
every  open  casement. 

My  three  favorite  shrubs  are  the  hippophse  rhamnoides,  the 
aralia  pentaphylla,  and  the  viburnum  cassinoides,  and  this  in  spite 
of  their  names.  Of  course,  women  are  likely  to  be  narrow,  and  I 
would  not  be  understood  as  wishing  to  confine  my  garden  to  these 
three  varieties.  But  as  I  look  over  the  graceful  lines  of  the  planta- 
tion, my  eyes  rest  gratefully  on  the  orange  fruit  and  soft  gray  foliage 

145 


0  U    R       C    O    U    N    T    R    Y       HO    M    E 

of  the  buckthorn,  the  vivid  green  of  the  aralia  and  the  thick-leaved 
withe-rod,  whose  berries  change  from  white  to  rose  and  deepen  to 
purple,  while  its  leaves  become  vivid  scarlet  and  orange.  When  I 
say  these  are  my  favorites,  the  cut  leaf  and  the  staghorn  sumacs 
seem  to  wave  their  feathery  fronds  in  gentle  protest.  I  have  no 
sooner  pacified  the  sumacs  than  the  forsythias  rustle  and  sway 
their  pendulous  branches,  exclaiming:  "Ungrateful  one,  have 
you  forgotten  our  glory  in  the  springtime,  our  sunshine  when  the 
sky  was  gray,  our  cool  greenness,  the  whole  hot  summer  through  ? 

1  must  add  too  a  word  for  my  sister,  the  bridal  wreath;  surely  your 
memory  is  very  poor  if  her  lovely  sprays  have  not  remained  en- 
graved upon  your  very  heart.     Are  you  going  to  ignore  the  old- 
fashioned  lilacs,  which  now  in  different  varieties  bloom  from  May 
to  July  ?     Does  the  scent  of  your  grandmother's  mock-orange  no 
longer  charm  you  ?     And  where  on  your  list  of  treasures  do  you  put 
the  exquisite  soft  deep  rose  of  the  winged-stemmed  spindle-tree 
and  the  white  plumy  seeds  of  the  groundsel  bush  or  the  privet, 
the  full   untrimmed,   gracefully  drooping,    rich-flowering   privet, 
with  its  masses  of  blue  clustered  berries  ?      What  has  the  barberry 
done,  your  own,  and  its  cousin  from  Japan,  but  flowered  and  ber- 
ried and  turned  to  scarlet  and  gold  for  your  pleasure  ?     How  about 
the  dogwoods  and  the  roses  ?  "     But  here  I  cry,  "  Hold !  Enough ! M 
It  is  true,  I  cannot  discriminate,  I  love  you  all !     Even  the  choke- 
berries  and  the  brambles,  the  bush  honeysuckle  and  the  Indian 

currant  with  its  graceful  magenta  sprays,  but  not  its  cousin  the 

146 


THE    HKIDAL    WHEAT!  I 


THE  GROUNDSEL   BVSH 


0     F       S    II    R    V    B    S 

snowberry, —  no,  we  have  parted  company.  It  is  a  shiftless  and 
indolent  character  with  not  enough  self  respect  to  present  a  proper 
appearance  before  the  world.  The  lonicera  Alberti  too,  we  have 
put  off  in  a  corner;  it  deserved  no  better  fate,  it  had  plenty  of  sun- 
shine but  it  sulked. 

Madame  Viburnum  has  such  a  large  and  interesting  progeny, 
and  so  individual  are  they,  so  varied  in  their  tastes  and  styles,  that 
when  meeting  a  bush  unknown  to  us  we  used  calmly  to  call  it  a 
viburnum,  or  in  case  a  look  of  incredulity  appeared  upon  the  face 
of  the  interlocutor,  we  changed  it  to  cornus.  This  weakened  our 
position  as  an  authority,  but  still  gave  us  some  credit  for  knowl- 
edge. We  were  like  the  man  who,  knowing  nothing  of  horticulture, 
became  very  much  interested  in  planting  a  bare  field  of  land  with 
fine  shrubs  and  flowers.  When  a  sceptical  friend  asked:  "Does 
Mr.  Brown  know  the  names  of  all  his  shrubs?"  "  Oh,  yes,"  was 
the  reply,  "if  he  gets  started  right!"  So  we  have  to  get  started 
right  on  our  viburnums,  for  they  are  a  puzzling  lot. 

We  have  eleven  species, — 0)  the  withe-rod  (cassinoides)  which 
belongs  to  my  trio  of  favorites,  although  it  has  one  curious  blemish 
which  I  have  not  found  noted  in  my  nature-books;  in  the  late  Fall 
it  gives  forth  a  strangely  disagreeable  odor,  pungent  and  penetrat- 
ing, a  worthy  rival  to  that  of  the  motor  car;  (2)  a  Chinese  variety 
(dilatatum)  which  came  to  us  by  accident  and  which  we  treasure  as 
the  very  apple  of  our  eyes;  its  leaves  turn  an  unusual  bronzy  purple 

which,  combined  with  its  scarlet  fruit,  makes  it  wonderfully  attrac- 

149 


OUR       CO    U    N    T    R    Y       HOME 

tive  even  as  late  as  November;  (3)  the  nanny-berry  (lentago)  which 
grows  wild  in  the  place  and  near  the  water  has  developed  into  a  tree 
some  t went v  feet  high:  (4)  the  maple-leaved  viburnum  (acerifolium) 
which  is  also  native  in  our  woods  and  makes  lovely  patches  of  rose 
pink  in  the  late  Fall;  (5)  the  high-bush  cranberry  (opulus)  from 
whose  berries  we  have  made  delicious  jelly,  whenever  the  birds 
have  left  us  sufficient  quantities;  (6)  the  hobblebush  (lantanoides) 
which  turns  a  deep  claret  red,  while  (7)  the  Sieboldei  keeps  its  rich 
green  very  late;  (8)  the  lantana  which  is  so  gray  and  rough,  it  does 
not  look  like  a  viburnum  at  all,  it  blossoms  earlier  than  the  others, 
and  when  once  settled  in  a  location  to  its  taste  develops  into  a 
handsome  shrub;  (9)  the  Japanese  snowball  (plicatum)  which 
will  soon  take  the  place,  I  hope,  of  our  aphis-eaten  variety;  (10)  the 
downy  (pubescens)  whose  foliage  changes  from  purple  to  deep 
red;  and  (11)  the  arrow-wood,  (dentatum)  which  has  shining  blue 
berries  that  the  birds  love. 

In  fact  they  seemed  to  relish  them  so  keenly  that  once  I  was 
tempted  to  taste  them.  Once  was  enough !  More  puckery,  sickish 
things  it  would  be  difficult  to  imagine!  Although  the  birds  feast 
upon  the  fruits,  as  building  sites  the  viburnums  seem  to  lack  in 
favor,  quite  a  contrast  to  the  clumps  of  tartarian  honeysuckle  bushes 
which  are  immediately  seized  upon  by  the  earliest  robin  or  cat- 
bird. To  raise  a  hungry  family  in  the  midst  of  those  pink  and 
white  juicy  globules!  No  wonder  the  opportunity  is  not  wasted. 

I  did  not  sample  the  honeysuckle  berries,  one  experience  was 

150 


VIBURNUM   LANTANOIDES   OR   ALNIFOLIUM 


VIBURNUM  LENTAGO 


OF       SHRUBS 


enough.      I  prefer  to  consider  them  as  satisfying  to  the  palate  as 
to  the  vision. 

When  we  first  took  possession  of  our  bit  of  wildwood,  down  by 
the  huge  Wisconsin  willow  which  overhung  the  water  stood  a 
large  panicled  dog-wood,  a  splendid  great  bush  some  twenty  feet 


SIlliUBBEKY    KDG1NG   T1IK    LAWN 


in  diameter,  the  constant  refuge  of  the  song  sparrows  who  had 
adopted  the  neighboring  willow-grove  for  their  own.  Our  idea 
was  not  only  to  acclimatize  the  various  eastern  wild  shrubs  but 
also  to  increase  the  number  of  those  growths  we  already  had,  so 
we  put  in  small  colonies  of  this  dogwood,  edging  the  forest  in  var- 
ious places.  We  planted  many  of  the  red-stemmed  dogwoods  too 

and  the  round-leafed  with  its  light  blue  berries;    the  silky  dogwood 

153 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

with  its  bluish  white  fruit;  the  red-osier  dogwood  which  also  has 
the  white  berry  but  bright  reddish  purple  stems;  the  alternate- 
leaved  too,  which  grows  into  a  tree;  but  the  beautiful  large  flower- 
ing dogwood  is  too  delicate  for  our  northern  climate. 

Along  the  roadway  to  the  house  we  spread  samples  as  it  were 
to  tempt  the  visitor  to  further  explorations  into  the  woods  beyond. 
The  clumps  of  maidenhair  fern  took  most  kindly  to  the  open  road, 
and  even  the  old-fashioned  American  elder,  finding  itself  high  and 
dry  on  the  hillside,  took  heart  of  grace  and  consented  to  blossom 
and  put  forth  its  purple  berries. 

At  the  farther  end  of  the  lawn  where  the  pergola  stops,  the 
white  Japanese  astilbe,  which  looks  so  much  like  a  hardhack,  grows 
in  profusion  bordered  by  the  rich  blue  sal  via;  then  come  the 
white  cascades  of  the  spiraea  Van  Houteii,  loveliest  of  the  shrubs 
of  Spring.  Beside  it  is  the  gray  foliage  of  the  wild  olive  contrast- 
ing with  the  rich  green  of  the  purple-flowering  raspberry,  while 
next  it  spread  the  long  branches  of  forsythia,  both  intermedia  and 
suspensa,  then  hardy  hydrangea  before  the  high  honeysuckle 
bushes  which  edge  the  forest.  A  mass  of  syringas,  both  fragrant 
(Philadelphus  lemoinei  and  coronarius)  and  scentless  (gordonianus 
and  grandiflorus) ;  with  yellow  lilies  on  one  side  and  low  Japanese 
barberries  on  the  other,  balances  the  big  lilac  plantation,  consisting 
of  Marie  le  Grey,  Princess  Alexandra,  Charles  X,  Louis  Van 
Houteii,  Emile  Lemoine,  the  villosa,  and  sorbifolia  and  of  course 
the  common  white  and  violet,  flanked  by  spiraea  aruncus  and  privet 

and  the  quick-growing  wild  senna  with  a  profusion  of  cherry  and 

154 


THK    SHORE    PATH    THE    FIRST   YEAR 


THE  SHORE   PATH   THE  THIRD  YEAR 


OF       SHRUBS 


white  phlox.  Here  in  the  early  springtime  under  the  leafless 
bushes,  the  ground  is  covered  with  wood  violets,  from  among  which 
rise  brilliantly  colored  tulips, —  an  unusual,  but  most  successful, 
combination. 

At  the  southeast  corner  of  the  lawn  against  the  hooded  entrance 
we  planted  a  small  grove  of  thorn-apple  and  wild  crab-apple  trees, 
the  strawberry  bush  and  the  bladder-nut  from  our  woods,  the 
maple-leafed  viburnum  and  the  wychhazel,  carefully  selecting  those 
already  entwined  with  bitter-sweet  or  wild  honeysuckleor  the  friend- 
ly grape.  All  down  the  hill  beneath  them  grow  violets  and  hepat- 
icas,  maidenhair  and  the  meadow  rue,  wild  asters  and  a  dwarf 
golden-rod,  shutting  in  the  lawn  from  the  roadway  below. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  steps,  the  rhodotypos  kerrioides 
which  often  dies  to  the  ground  in  winter,  the  spiraea  Thumbergii 
and  the  Indian  currant,  always  flourishing  in  sun  or  shade,  the 
spiraea  Van  Houteii  and  ''that  glorified  elder,"  as  one  visitor 
called  it,  the  Hercules'  Club,  extend  to  the  corner  of  the  south 
terrace,  where  the  rosa  rugosa  from  Japan,  with  its  thickly  set 
prickles  and  huge  scarlet  haws,  makes  a  brilliant  mass  in  leaf  or 
fruit,  a  feast  for  the  eye  in  summer  and  fall. 

Part  of  our  pleasure  in  this  country  life  is  to  explore  the  small 
nurseries  within  a  radius  of  thirty  miles  and  to  buy  from  them  all 
we  can,  as  naturally  those  plants  do  better  that  have  been  accli- 
matized. We  found  one  very  interesting  little  place,  only  two 

acres  in  extent,  devoted  to  raising  evergreens  from  the  seed!     It  is 

157 


OUR       COUNTRY        HOME 

needless  to  state  this  man  was  not  an  American.  He  had  all  the 
patience  and  perseverance  that  long  centuries  of  training  have 
given  our  Teutonic  brothers,  and  his  fad  outside  of  his  business 
was  ginseng.  I  suppose  the  fact  that  ginseng  seed  takes  two 
years  even  to  germinate,  and  five  to  seven  years  to  produce  a  root 
large  enough  to  sell,  made  the  progress  of  the  sturdy  little  baby 
pines  and  spruces  seem  lightning-like  by  comparison.  We  in- 
duced him  to  part  with  some  of  his  precious  roots  to  renew 
their  scarlet  berries  in  our  glades  and  pathways.  The  kindlv, 
delicate  little  wife  presented  me  with  "  a  mess  of  sweet  corn  "  from 
her  early  stock,  apologizing  for  her  tiny  neglected  flower  garden 
as  she  had  been  in  the  hospital  for  weeks.  Knowing  a  woman's 
fondness  for  sweet  scents,  at  the  first  opportunity  I  sent  her  a  big 
box  of  rose  geraniums  and  some  sprays  of  white  jasmine.  She  hung 
in  rapture  over  the  fragrant  package  and  from  that  moment  we 
each  felt  a  special  interest  in  the  other,  for  we  had  each  ministered 
to  the  other 's  happiness. 


CHAPTER  XI. 
OF  VINES. 

AT  the  end  of  the  island  where  the  summer  breezes  always 
blow,  where  the  wild  honeysuckle  clambers  high  up  into  the 
overhanging  maple  trees  and  the  bitter-sweet  not  only  covers 
bushes  and  tall  milkweed  with  its  twisted  sprays  but  pops  up  its 
swaying  stems  all  through  the  grass,  beseeching  a  support,  where 
the  wild  grape  in  tangled  masses  hangs  from  the  iron-woods  and 
small  poplars,  —  here  would  be  an  ideal  place  to  build  a  rustic 
tea-house  covered  with  vines,  looking  out  over  the  dancing  waters. 
No  sooner  said  than  done  —  all  except  the  "  covered  with  vines ! " 
Those  vines  of  all  descriptions  avoided  that  little  arbor  as  if  it  had 
the  plague.  The  bitter-sweet  at  its  feet,  touching  its  floor,  when 
coaxed  along  with  a  staple  or  two,  merely  withered  or  refused  to 
grow.  The  wild  grape  clinging  to  the  tree  on  the  east  side  had  no 
place  in  its  life  for  a  rustic  arbor.  We  tacked  branches  of  the 
poplar,  vine  and  all,  to  the  tea-house  roof,  but  the  grape  turned 
its  back  and  went  to  the  other  side  of  the  tree ;  we  put  some  better 
soil  in  about  the  postsand  planted  woodbines  and  Japanese  clematis 

but  they  only  made  a  stunted  attempt  at  living,  until  finally  we 

161 


OUR       COUNTRY       II    O    M    E 

learned  the  reason  why.     '*  Where  the  summer  breezes  blow.  "- 
there    lay  the  secret :   a  shelter  m-uxt  be  made  before  the  vines  could 
take  hold.     The  way  vines  depend  on  the  wind  for  aid  in  reaching 
and  clasping  the  next  support  is  a  curious  study  by  itself.     We 
planted  a  clump  of  dogwood  and   linden  on  the   southwest   side, 


THE   RUSTIC  TEA-HOUSE 

whence  blew  the  prevailing  summer  winds.  In  a  month  the  wild 
grape  had  tangled  itself  beautifully  about  the  smooth  stems;  then 
we  attached  both  vine  and  bush  to  the  arbor.  Immediately  the 
wild  grape  ran  along  the  roof  and  hung  down  from  the  eaves,  and 
in  a  year  or  two  we  shall  have  our  vine-covered  arbor  in  spite  of 
summer  breezes. 

162 


THK    WILD    GRAPE    IX    TAXGLEI)    MASSES 


THE  SMOOTH-LEAVED   HONEYSUCKLE 


OF       V    1    N    E    S 

I  regret  to  say  that  \ve  found  the  poison  ivy  growing  in  profusion 
on  the  island.  It  is  a  pity  it  should  be  so  poisonous.  No  maple 
was  ever  more  brilliant  than  its  leaves  in  autumn,  but  we  con- 
scientiously tried  to  eradicate  it.  After  four  years  of  weeding  I 
can  only  acknowledge  that  its  clinging  nature  has  been  too  much  for 
us;  the  only  sure  way  to  get  rid  of  it  I  believe  is  to  turn  over  the 
sod  and  burn  all  the  roots!  In  contrast  to  this  pest  the  bedstraw 
family  is  a  favorite  of  ours,  with  its  long  sticky  stems  and  whorls 
of  from  four  to  six  leaflets,  and  its  misty  white  flowers,  like  the 
"  baby's  breath."  It  blossoms  from  June  to  August  and  has  a  faint 
sweet  perfume.  Later,  the  tiny  burrs  are  somewhat  overfond  of 
company,  but  even  under  the  first  snow  its  green  leaves  peep  up 
at  the  daintily  dancing  leaflets  of  the  cinquefoil.  I  discovered 
the  wild  balsam  apple  over  some  dogwoods  the  other  day;  its 
three-forked  tendrils,  its  prickly  soft  green  balls  and  star-shaped 
leaves,  looked  their  prettiest,  but  it  too  much  resembled  the  wild 
cucumber  to  stand  high  in  our  favor. 

To  our  great  joy  we  found  the  smooth-leaved  honeysuckle  in 
many  open  spots  throughout  the  woods.  It  seemed  like  an  old 
friend,  with  its  trumpets  of  cream  flowers,  its  characteristic  bluish 
leaves,  and  bright  scarlet  berries.  Near  it  grew  the  moonseed  with 
its  twining  stems,  its  clean  unusually  marked  leaf,  its  delicate 
clusters  of  flowers,  and  bunches  of  grape-like  fruit.  We  mean  to 
transplant  this  from  the  wood  where  it  wanders  over  weeds  and 

grasses,    and    see   what   a   little   cultivation    will    do    for   it.      The 

166 


OUR       COUNTRY       H    O    M    E 

loaves  are  not  eaten    by  the  insects,  and    remain  a  fresh  green 
until  frost. 

The  virgin's-bower  pulls  itself  over  the  low  bushes  with  its 
interlocking  leaf  stems  and  turns  its  delicate  starry  flowers  and 
later  its  great  clusters  of  bearded  seed  to  our  admiring  gaze  until 
Christmas-time.  We  must  not  forget  the  wild  pink  morning-glory 
or  the  rose-tinted  hedge  bindweed,  which  when  kept  within  bourfds 
are  ornamental.  But  the  dodder  —  how  perfectly  its  Frisian 
name  expresses  it  —  "  A  tangled  hank  of  silk ! "  Has  anyone  a 
good  word  for  it  ?  I  shudder  when  I  hear  there  are  ten  distinct  vari- 
eties. We  may  be  thankful  that  we  have  but  one,  and  that  it  is  an 
annual.  It  is  a  parasite  of  the  worst  character,  for  its  long  brittle 
threads  wind  tightly  about  the  stems  of  its  victim  and  stifle  the 
circulation  of  the  sap  until  the  whole  plant  withers  and  blackens. 
Its  masses  of  tiny  white  flowers  appearing  in  bunches  upon  the  stem 
of  the  victimized  plant  resemble  those  of  the  poison  ivy ;  fortunately 
it  withers  at  the  first  touch  of  frost,  but  if  one  is  unwilling  to  wait 
for  that  propitious  moment,  a  lighted  torch  applied  to  bush  and 
parasite  is  an  absolute  remedy. 

The  climbing  false  buckwheat  too  I  find  myself  compelled  to 
regard  as  an  enemy  when  it  invades  my  dogwood  and  spiraea 
and  twines  about  the  aromatic  sumac,  and  flaunts  its  pale  green 
blossoms  arrogantly  above  the  top  of  my  rarest  rose. 

The  matrimony  vine  has  its  good  points  although  it  needs  a 

certain  environment  to  show  them  well.     With  proper  and  careful 

166 


THE   KVDZU   THE   MIDDLE   OF   MAY 


THE   KUDZU   IN   SEPTEMBER 


OF       VINES 


training  and  pruning  it  makes  a  good  screen  and  keeps  green  until 
December.  It  flowers  too,  persistently,  even  if  those  flowers  are 
small  and  not  pretty  in  color;  they  have  a  sort  of  faded  futile  look 
about  them,  but  their  intention  of  welldoing  should  be  recognized. 
The  bees  certainly  appreciate  them.  Curiously  enough  our  vines 
have  never  berried,  but  have  kept  on  blossoming  until  after  the 
first  frost. 

I  wish  some  one  would  write  an  apotheosis  to  the  kudzu  vine, 
that  enterprising  and  willing  worker,  that  vigorous  and  constant 
grower  which,  starting  out  of  the  ground  about  the  middle  of  May, 
a  weak  and  helpless  shoot  without  tendrils  or  clasping  leaf-stems, 
under  the  least  kindly  encouragement  in  the  way  of  staples  or 
string,  bounds  upward  and  onward  over  all  obstacles,  arriving 
at  the  window  ledge,  reaching  up  to  the  awnings,  and  still  not  con- 
tent until  the  roof  be  scaled  and  it  can  see  what  is  beyond.  I  fully 
expect,  if  the  season  were  long  enough,  that  it  would  drape  my 
tallest  chimney  with  its  ivy-like  green  leaves  and  hang  its  long, 
straight,  limp  strands  over  the  entire  length  of  the  house.  For- 
tunately, nature  has  so  arranged  it,  in  this  climate  at  least,  that  it 
dies  to  the  ground  at  the  first  touch  of  frost.  What  it  accomplishes 
in  its  native  haunts  in  Japan  is  beyond  my  imagination!  I  am 
sure  it  must  have  been  the  kudzu  vine  which  the  Fairies  planted 
by  the  house  of  the  Sleeping  Beauty,  "  and  it  grew  and  grew  and 
covered  the  house,  and  still  grew  into  a  green  tangle  in  the  middle 

of  the  wood,  reaching  out  its  long  fingers,  twisting  itself  around  any 

169 


O    U    K       C    0    I      X    T    R    Y        II    0    M    E 

support,  falling  over  the  low  bushes,  pulling  itself  to  the  top  of 
tall  trees,  and  still  unconquered  waving  its  restless  arms  in  the 
summer  winds,  until  the  next  friendly  poplar  welcomed  it." 
Small  wonder  that  the  Fairy  Prince  had  difficulty  in  finding  her! 

In  Jack  and  the  Beanstalk  too  — without  doubt  the  kudzu  again ! 
'•  Jack  took  a  piece  of  stick  and  made  some  holes  in  the  ground 
and  put  in  the  beans.  At  dawn  he  went  into  the  garden.  What 
was  his  amazement  to  find  the  beans  had  grown  up  in  the  night 
and  climbed  up  and  up  till  they  covered  the  high  cliff  that  sheltered 
the  cottage,  and  disappeared  above  it.  The  stalks  had  twined 
and  twisted  themselves  together  till  they  formed  quite  a  ladder.  " 
The  kudzu  is  also  like  Antaeus,  who  every  time  he  touched  his 
Mother  Earth  gained  new  strength;  for  at  the  axils  of  the  leaves  not 
only  do  new  stems  start  upwards,  but  if  they  touch  the  ground  new 
rootlets  start  downward,  and  so  new  plants  are  formed.  It  does 
not  rebel  at  training  nor  even  at  mutilation.  I  have  carried  it  up 
a  pier  underneath  a  trumpet  vine,  cutting  off  all  its  leaves  until  it 
had  attained  a  height  of  twenty  feet,  where  I  wished  it  to  cover  a 
railing.  Nothing  loath,  in  four  weeks  it  had  covered  fifty  feet  of 
that  railing.  If  a  column  in  the  pergola  looks  ragged  or  the  vine 
over  it  ripens  early,  lo,  at  a  moment's  notice  the  kudzu  is  ready 
to  come  over  and  drape  it.  No  child  fears  the  dark  more  than 
does  this  curious  climber.  It  makes  but  one  demand  —  sunshine. 
How  it  shrinks  and  shrivels  on  reaching  a  shady  corner!  The 

small  inconspicuous  bunches  of  pale  lilac  flowers  resembling  the 

170 


OF       VINES 


pea  family  come  in  October,  but  often  the  vine  is  overtaken  by 
the  frost  before  it  blooms.  It  has  a  delicate  sweet  perfume  re- 
minding one.  as  does  the  flower  itself,  of  the  ground-nut  in  our 
wild  garden. 

This  latter  is  attractive,  with  its  five  to  seven  smooth  egg-shaped 
leaflets  and  its  short,  fat,  dull,  pinkish-brown  blossoms  in  August. 
It  twines  around  the  willow  sapling  and  sprawls  over  the  fragrant 
sumac  and  admires  its  own  reflection  in  the  water  at  its  feet. 
They  say  it  has  edible  tubers,  but  woe  to  any  one  of  an  investigating 
turn  of  mind  on  our  small  woodlot!  Here  we  found  it.  and  here 
we  encouraged  its  ramblings,  and  it  has  responded  freely  to  our 
fostering  care.  Belonging  to  the  same  family  —  the  pulses  — 
is  the  American  vetch  waving  its  restless  collection  of  tendrils  at  the 
end  of  the  long  leaf -stems;  the  lavender  flowers  form  an  agreeable 
mass  of  color  from  May  to  August,  while  the  veined  leaves  stay 
green  through  October.  We  have  also  the  Carolina  vetch,  and  a 
creamy  white  variety  which,  for  some  occult  reason,  is  known 
as  a  vetchling. 

The  wild  bean  and  the  hog  peanut  keep  the  vetch  company 
through  the  late  fall.  They  both  have  small  lilac  clusters  of  flowers, 
and  at  first  to  our  ignorant  eyes  their  three  leaflets  resembled  the 
poison-ivy;  but  soon  we  learned  that  these  thin  bright  leaves  had 
an  excellent  character  of  their  own,  and  covered  in  most  attractive 
fashion  bare  ground  where  nothing  else  would  grow.  Who  does 

not  know  the  bitter-sweet  with  its  orange  capsules  and  scarlet 

173 


O    r    R        C    O    UN    T    R    Y        HO    M    E 

berries?  It  twines  and  twists  its  small  leaved  steins  over  itself  if 
nothing  else  is  near,  and  for  covering  an  archway  it  is  invaluable. 
The  tiny  white  flowers  are  fragrant,  but  the  clusters  of  berries  on  its 
leafless  stems  against  the  snow  are  a  delight  to  the  winter  rambler. 

Besides  the  kudzu  we  have  to  thank  Japan  for  another  vine, 
the  akebia  quinata.  Its  five  rounded  leaflets  appear  in  May  and 
keep  a  vivid  green  far  into  the  winter.  We  have  not  been  so  suc- 
cessful with  this  vine  as  we  should  like,  but  we  know  the  reason 
why.  One-inch  gas-pipe  is  the  best  support  for  its  thin  wiry  stems. 
The  face  of  the  Constant  Improver  was  a  study  when  I  proposed 
placing  this  horror  in  one  compartment  of  the  trellis  on  the  south 
terrace.  Gas-pipe!  Gas-pipe,  indeed!  No,  the  akebia  could 
die  first.  But  it  did  n't,  it  only  sulked  and  made  faces  and  yet 
struggled  along.  After  three  years,  one  twisting  spray  has  man- 
aged to  reach  the  second  story  and,  after  its  leaves  have  ripened  off, 
makes  green  the  woodbine  stalks.  For  of  course  we  have  the  wood- 
bine, trained  on  the  timbers  of  the  house  to  the  roof,  its  lovely 
purple  berries  and  crimson  stems  fringing  the  windows  and  attract- 
ing the  catbirds  and  veeries  in  September.  How  curiously  it 
attaches  itself  to  the  walls  by  little  flat,  red,  sucker-like  disks  at 
the  tips  of  the  tendrils !  It  has  been  supposed  that  it  secretes  some 
kind  of  cement,  for  it  adheres  to  smooth  surfaces  though  it  prefers 
rough  ones. 

On  the  boulder  wall  of  the  terrace  are  clumps  of  the  old- 
fashioned  Halliana  honeysuckle,  which  blossoms  more  or  less  all 

174 


THE   AKEBIA   QUINATA   IN   DECEMBEB 


THE   WOODBINE 


()     F        V    I    X     K    S 

summer;  it  is  well  named,  its  flowers  are  so  honey  sweet;  and 
sprawling  over  rose  bush  and  spir&a,  over  the  posts  and  flower- 
boxes,  climbing  the  house-walls  in  one  snowy  perfumed  mantle, 
is  the  Japanese  clematis. 

It  has  recently  been  suggested  that  possibly  plants  have  senses, 
and  perhaps  they  have.  I  know  they  have  wills  of  their  own,  as 
witness  my  experience  with  the  fragile  colnea  vine.  That  first 
summer  in  the  big  house  when  the  window- boxes  looked  so  bare, 
I  conceived  the  brilliant  idea,  as  I  thought,  of  planting  in  the  front 
of  the  boxes  some  cobrea,  which  should  fall  gracefully  to  the  brick 
floor,  its  purple  bells  all  dangling,  its  curious  seed-pods  orna- 
menting the  terrace  after  the  frost  had  blighted  the  leaves.  The 
cobtea  was  duly  planted,  and  the  first  fresh  shoots  were  carefully 
tied  down  to  the  wood.  I  noticed  that  instead  of  hanging  down, 
they  had  a  tendency  to  turn  upward,  frail  as  the  stems  were,  but 
I  persisted.  Inch  by  inch  Madame  Cobrea  and  I  fought;  her 
aspirations  pointed  to  the  heavens,  mine  were  sadly  earthly.  It 
was  a  lesson  to  me  in  more  ways  than  one.  Madame  Cobaja  did 
not  give  up  the  fight;  no  more  did  I.  When  she  found  she  could 
not  rise,  she  did  not  die,  she  simply  refused  to  grow  at  all,  and  the 
entire  summer  passed  without  one  flower  on  the  cobjea  vine  and 
only  a  few  protesting  leaves. 

T  think  perhaps  the  trumpet  vine  is  our  favorite  one  after  all, 
so  splendidly  rich  in  its  graceful  growth,  so  gorgeous  its  clusters 

of  orange  flowers,  so  fraught  with  promise  its  long  beans  filled 

177 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

with  the  brown  velvety  winged  seeds.  Although  capricious  in 
this  severe  climate,  even  dying  to  the  ground  some  winters,  it  seems 
to  emerge  again  with  renewed  vigor  in  June,  ready  to  make  up 
for  its  tardy  appearance.  Its  stiff  stems  do  not  take  kindly  to 
training,  but  by  constant  tying  I  have  induced  it  to  grow  horizon- 
tally along  the  front  of  those  same  window  boxes,  where  it  blos- 
somed and  seeded  in  a  most  gratifying  manner. 

Perhaps  the  nature  of  vines,  or  creepers,  as  our  English  cousins 
call  them,  appeals  particularly  to  womankind.  It  certainly  is 
wonderfully  interesting  to  watch  their  varied  methods  toward 
success.  Apparently  the  most  helpless  creations  in  the  vegetable 
world,  with  what  skill  and  grace  they  manage  to  get  their  own  way, 
and  what  garlands  of  beauty  and  fragrance  they  offer  to  the 
sturdier  inhabitants  of  the  forest  that  are  willing  to  support  them! 


CHAPTER    XII. 
OF    WILD    FLOWERS. 

AS  SOON  as  we  came  to  live  in  the  country  we  began  to  learn 
the  wild  flowers  by  name,  particularly  those  that  grew  on 
our  own  place.  It  was  a  fascinating  study.  I  liked  best  the  books 
with  plenty  of  pictures,  for  some  way  technical  descriptions  were 
not  easy  to  grasp.  The  Britton  and  Brown,  as  we  called  it  — 
''  Illustrated  Flora  of  the  United  States  and  Canada,"  by  Profes- 
sor Britton  and  the  Hon.  Addison  Brown,  as  it  is  known  in  the 
book  stores  —  should  be  in  every  country  house  library,  so  com- 
plete is  it  and  with  every  plant  illustrated.  No  weed  was  too 
insignificant  for  our  list.  We  had  the  assistance  of  kind  and 
interested  neighbors  in  our  undertaking,  and  when  all  other  sources 
failed,  on  application  to  the  botanical  department  of  the  nearest 
university  we  had  instant  and  valuable  aid. 

I  shall  never  forget  our  first  springtime.     The  hepaticas  grew 

in  wonderful  rosy  and  lavender  clumps  paling  into  white;  each 

179 


OUR       COUNTRY       H    ()    M    E 

little  group  above  the  dead  brown  leaves  seeming  more  beautiful 
than  the  last.  The  cold  wind  did  not  seem  to  harm  them,  but 
only  in  the  sunshine  would  they  spread  their  petals  wide.  Soon 
afterward  the  bloodroot  unfurled  its  curled  leaf  and  rich  ivory 
flower,  and  then  came  the  pert  young  jack-in-the-pulpit  standing 
arrogantly  under  his  green  or  purple  striped  hood,  preaching  to  us 
many  a  sermon  if  we  would  but  listen  —  on  the  cheerful  bearing  of 
discomfort  perhaps,  for  the  north  wind  blows  chill  in  cloudy  April. 
The  wild  blue  phlox  joined  him  soon,  with  the  anemones  and 
spring  beauties,  the  bellworts  and  pussy  willows;  for  it  was  still 
early  May.  The  shore  path  now  was  lined  with  marsh  marigolds 
brought  by  hundreds  from  a  neighboring  swamp.  The  ground 
was  blue  with  violets  next. —  the  bird-foot  and  the  meadow,  the 
striped  and  the  Canada;  the  sweet  white  and  the  downy  yellow 
in  <juantities  led  us  to  the  buttercups  and  wild  geraniums,  when 
the  shad-bush  gleamed  white  in  the  forest. 

One  spring  we  found  a  leaf-wrapped  stem  about  six  inches  high 
in  the  midst  of  the  maidenhair  dell.  On  searching,  half  a  dozen 
more  were  discovered;  they  looked  like  small  corn,  so  sturdy  and 
fat  were  their  stalks.  We  watched  them  from  week  to  week,  and 
they  grew  and  sent  out  long  tapering  leaves  alternately  on  either 
side;  then  at  the  height  of  four  feet  they  began  to  bow  gracefully, 
and  on  the  under  side  small  tightly  closed  balls  appeared.  Still 
they  grew,  until  one  was  six  feet  high  —  the  giant  Solomon's  seal. 

Every  year  they  come  in  the  maidenhair  dell,  just  six  of  them. 

ISO 


PIXK    LADY  S-SMPPKR 


GIANT    SOLOMON  S    SKAL, 


no  more,  no  less,  making  in  August  with  their  big  bloom-covered 
black  berries  an  effective  picture,  against  the  delicate  ferns  at 
their  feet. 

In  various  open  spaces  throughout  the  woods  were  found  the 
smaller  hairy  Solomon's  seal,  and  the  fragrant  star-flowered  Solo- 
mon's seal,  and  the  wild  spikenard,  and  the  twisted  stalk. 

By  the  tenth  of  May  the  trilliums  were  there,  the  dull  red  recur- 
vatum,  and  the  waxy  cernuum,  but  above  all  the  grandiflorum, 
white  and  delicate  and  wind-blown,  an  epitome  of  the  springtime. 
One  autumn  we  chose  a  sloping  hillside  in  the  deep  woods  and 
planted  in  careful  imitation  of  Nature's  carelessness,  some  eight 
hundred  grandiflorum  bulbs  and  waited.  Very  early  the  next  May 
we  sought  our  sheltered  hillside^  and  there  tossing  in  the  sunlight 
were  literally  hundreds  of  the  great  white  trilliums  with  their  rich 
green  triparted  leaves  and  exquisite  flowers.  We  hung  over  them 
in  rapture,  as  they  grew  here  and  there  in  little  families  of  two  or 
three,  or  separately,  reaching  out  still  farther  into  the  forest.  Did 
we  pick  them  ?  We  could  not  bear  to,  as  they  last  on  the  plant  at 
least  ten  days,  turning  to  pink  as  they  fade.  One  morning  a  dear 
neighbor  appeared  at  my  door  carrying  a  large  handful  of  the 
precious  white  trilliums.  "  They  do  not  grow  in  our  woods  at  all,  " 
she  explained :  "  when  I  saw  such  a  lot  of  them  I  could  not  resist 
helping  myself."  I  hope  I  smiled  bravely.  Not  that  I  begrudged 
her  anything  she  might  like  upon  the  place:  it  was  the  sincerest 
compliment  she  could  have  paid  to  our  successful  planting,  but  I 

wished  she  had  coveted  our  roses  instead. 

18.1} 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

By  the  middle  of  May  the  yellow  lady's-slipper  is  nodding  by 
the  woodsy  path  and  lighting  up  the  little  hollow  where  later  on 
the  mandrakes  hide  under  their  green  umbrella  leaves.  The 
slunvv  orchid  in  great  clumps  soon  follows  her  taller  sister,  and  a 
week  later  the  brilliant  yellow  lithospermum  hirtum  appears  on 


THE   SPIKED    LOOSKSTKIKK 


the  water's  brink.  The  squaw-root  in  curious  club-like  spikes 
thickly  set  with  tight  white  flowers,  grows  in  clumps  all  through 
the  woods,  and  the  wild  sarsaparilla  is  in  blossom,  for  it  is  not 
yet  June. 

The  wild  strawberry,  the  yellow  wood  sorrel,  Robin's  plantain, 

and  the  black-eyed  Susan  first  blossom  early  in  June,  but  this 

184 


OF       WILD       FLOWERS 

month  is  so  sweet  with  the  masses  of  wild  roses,  great  sheets  of 
fragrance  and  bloom,  that  the  woodsy  flowers  pale  by  contrast. 
By  the  twentieth,  however,  the  shin-leaf  is  raising  its  delicate  spikes 
of  pinkish  perfumed  blossoms  all  about  the  forest,  and  the  tall 
milkweed  lifts  its  pink  and  white  hoods  to  our  delighted  eyes. 

Early  in  July,  the  pure  white  Indian  pipe  gleams  through  the 
woods,  greeting  its  fragrant  cousin  the  false  beach  drops;  and  that 
curious  little  orchid,  the  small-flowered  coral-root,  appears  with  its 
.  tiny  dull  purple-brown  flowers,  followed  by  the  beautiful  clusters 
of  elder-berry,  and  on  the  island  the  blue  lobelia.  The  white 
sprays  of  the  flowering  spurge  dance  in  the  long  grasses.  What 
a  time  we  had  finding  its  name!  I  was  sure  it  must  be  a  milkweed 
from  its  sticky  juice.  Curiously  enough  it  was  not  in  my  constant 
companion,  Schuyler  Mathew's  "  Field  Book  on  American  Wild 
Flowers."  If  the  ends  of  the  stalks  are  seared  with  a  candle  as 
soon  as  picked,  it  lasts  for  days;  and  it  combines  well  with  the 
cardinal-flower  for  the  dining-room  table. 

Later  in  July  great  masses  of  spiked  loosestrife  wave  their  pink 
and  purple  stalks  in  the  summer  breezes,  and  the  water  beneath 
them  blushes  into  loveliness,  and  the  sky  above  appears  a  deeper 
azure.  The  rose-mallows  on  the  other  side  of  the  willows  blossom 
in  eager  rivalry,  and  the  woods  are  blue  with  the  tall  bellflower. 

In  August  the  golden-rod  arrives  <  and  great  fields  of  sunflowers 
and  black-eyed  Susans  contrast  with  the  Joe  Pye  weed  and  the 

asters.     What  a  beautiful  family  the  asters   are.   from   the  sky- 

185 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

blue  variety  to  the  pale  lavender  of  the  common  wood  aster  with 
its  misty  seed  effects ;  the  wavy-leaf  aster,  its  pale  blue  to  violet  rays 
clustering  about  the  yellow-turning-to-brown  disks;  the  daisy-like 
purple  aster,  and  the  smooth  aster  high  in  the  dry  woods  with  its 
clasping,  tapering  leaves.  The  white  and  the  tall  white  lettuce 
stand  sentinel-like  along  the  roadways.  One  can  almost  hear  the 
tinkle  of  their  tiny  bells,  nodding  as  the  bees  fly  by. 

Shall  I  acknowledge  that  even  the  smartweed  and  the  lady's- 
thumb  have  a  place  in  our  collection,  that  the  ridge-seeded  spurge 
makes  a  delicate  covering  for  the  ground  where  the  eglantine  lifts 
high  her  thorny  stalks,  and  that  even  the  chickweed  is  permitted  to 
spread  its  carpet  of  dainty  leaves  under  the  sea-buckthorn  bushes  ? 

On  the  western  boundary  of  the  place  the  woods  stop  within 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  of  the  shore,  and  here,  where  the 
land  dips  down  a  little  into  a  hollow,  we  planned  a  field  of  sun- 
loving  flora  like  the  blue  closed  gentian,  the  turtle-head,  the  frag- 
rant white  fringed  orchid,  the  old-fashioned  butter-and-eggs,  the 
bouncing-bets,  the  dogbane,  the  wild  bergamot,  the  white  sanicle, 
and  her  humble  sister  the  boneset,  the  resin-weed,  with  all  the 
cone-flowers,  and  sunflowers,  the  heleniums  and  the  heliopsis, 
the  wild  asters  in  variety,  and  the  milkweeds  among  the  tall  swampy 
grasses.  Here  in  some  mysterious  fashion  appeared  the  downy 
false  foxglove  and  the  fern-leaved  and  the  tall  wild  lettuce  with  her 
sister  the  red  wood-lettuce,  both  of  which  so  resemble  the  thistle  in 

leaf  that  the  first  year  I  pulled  them  all  up.     The  Maryland  fig- 

186 


THE   SPIKENARD 


BERRIES    BELOVED   BY   ALL  THE    BIRDS 


O     F        W    I     L    1)        F    L    0    \V    E    R    S 

wort,  beloved  by  the  bees,  and  the  small  modest  half-flowering 
stalks  of  the  self-heal  found  their  way  to  this  patch  of  wildness,  and 
nearer  the  water  the  jewel-weed  chatted  gaily  with  the  Oswego  tea, 
while  the  bur  marigold  whispered  airy  nothings  to  her  neighbor  the 
butterfly-weed. 

In  only  one  spot  did  the  starry  campion  show  herself,  and  then 
only  in  a  tentative,  half-hearted  manner  as  if  she  were  looking 
around  to  see  if  she  liked  the  place.  We  left  her  severely  alone, 
only  protecting  her  from  onslaughts,  and  now  every  August  we 
have  a  good  group  of  the  delicate  bell-like  flowers,  very  near  our 
hooded  entrance.  The  spikenard  is  another  discovery.  It  shrinks 
from  sunlight,  but  give  it  a  shady  corner,  a  damp,  narrow  bit  of 
ground  against  a  wall,  and  it  puts  forth  great  beautiful  leaves  in 
drooping,  graceful  sprays,  and  large  clusters  of  delicate  white  blos- 
soms which  later  turn  to  tiny  berries  beloved  by  all  the  birds. 

We  have  none  of  the  laurel  family  indigenous  here,  no  rhodo- 
dendron or  azalea  or  partridge  berry  or  cranberry  or  wintergreen. 
\Ve  have  not  even  the  ox-eyed  daisy  or  moss  pink  or  sabbatia  or 
milkwort  or  blue  vervain.  The  trailing  arbutus  grows  in  this  State, 
there  are  legends  that  it  used  to  flourish  in  these  woods,  but  too 
immy  young  students,  during  too  many  springtimes,  had  eagerly 
plucked  it  up  by  the  roots  "for  teacher"  or  idly  carried  it  home  for 
a  brief  life  in  water.  We  mean  to  make  it  grow  again  if  possible. 
We  did  succeed  in  carrying  it  through  one  winter  by  covering  it 

with  glass,  but  the  next  year  it  died.     A  friend  has  sent  us  some 

189 


OUR       COUNT    R    Y        II    O    M    E 

strong  young  rhododendrons  as  an  experiment.  One  winter  they 
have  lived  through;  now  we  await  the  coming  of  Spring  with  its 
alternate  freezing  and  thawing  and  freezing  again.  A  member 
of  the  family  driving  in  the  Adirondacks  saw  a  dainty  plant  resem- 
bling the  paint  brush,  and  promptly  contributed  it  to  our  collec- 
tion. We  eagerly  look  forward  to  its  blossom  the  coming  summer 
to  get  more  definite  information  in  regard  to  it. 

After  we  had  noted  each  flower  in  its  season  and  learned  its 
two  names,  at  least,  we  imagined  perhaps  as  far  as  botany  was 
concerned  we  had  exhausted  our  field.  Not  at  all.  The  late 
summer  and  autumn  developed  another  form  of  beauty,  and  we 
had  the  world  of  wonderful  seed  pods  to  study.'  What  were  those 
tiny  iridescent  shot-like  berries  in  bunches  on  the  frail  grass-like 
stalk  only  about  eight  inches  high  ?  No  leaves  were  near,  of 
course  no  flower,  it  was  late  October.  One  learns  patience  in 
studying  Nature.  A  careful  note  was  made,  and  the  next  Spring 
a  tiny  bunch  of  greenish  white  flowers  appeared  on  the  grassy 
stalk,  which  was  soon  labelled  the  wild  leek.  In  November  tall 
spikes  of  curiously  grooved  stems  set  with  whorls  of  bright  orange 
berries  clinging  close  to  their  sides  attracted  us  throughout  the 
woods.  The  strange  stems  helped  us,  and  we  learned  it  was  tlie 
horse  gentian.  It  was  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  I  remember,  we 
found  one  year  some  dark  blue,  round,  smooth  berries  on  a  leaf- 
less stalk,  about  two  feet  high,  the  berries  were  loosely  clustered, 
of  varying  sizes  and  we  kept  meeting  them  in  our  ramblings.  It 

was   not   until   the   next  year  that  we  discovered    for   ourselves 

190 


OF       WILD       FLOWERS 

with  the  assistance  of  the  leaf  and  flower  that  these  were  blue 
cohosh  berries. 

In  a  sheltered  hollow  the  very  last  of  October  I  found  a  blue 
lobelia  in  blossom  near  a  white  clover  and  belated  bit  of  golden- 
rod.  At  this  time  of  year  we  look  with  affection  on  the  strong 


NEW    KNGLAXI)    ASTERS    BY   THE   SHORE    PATH 

green  of  the  catnip  and  the  peppertnint,  the  cinquefoil  and  the  fig- 
wort.  The  blue-gray  bloom  on  the  blackberry  stems  contrasting 
with  the  green  leaves  shading  into  deep  claret,  forms  a  lovely  bit 
of  color  along  the  roadside.  And  although  the  thimble-weed's 
starry  blossoms  come  in  July,  now  it  is  like  an  overflowing 
fountain,  its  fuzzy  little  seeds  bubbling  over  and  clinging  to  the 

brown  stems  as  if  afraid  to  launch  into  the  cold,  cold  world. 

191 


OUR        COUNTRY       HOME 

Before  a  mass  of  rich  purple  asters  hanging  over  the  shore  path, 
some  country  women  stopped  in  admiration  one  morning,  until  one 
exclaimed,  "  Why,  they  're  nothin'  but  wild  flowers ! "  The  rest 
followed  her  retreating  footsteps  in  shamed  dismay.  What  have 
the  wild  flowers  done  to  deserve  such  scornful  treatment  ? 

When  I  pass  an  unpainted  little  house  by  the  wayside  with  its 
bed  of  faded  dahlias  and  purplish  phlox,  I  long  to  go  in  and  ask  the 
good  woman  if  she  sees  the  possibilities  in  those  clusters  of  feathery 
asters,  and  the  decorative  qualities  in  the  yellow  resin-weed  on  the 
dusty  highway,  so  near  her  garden  gate.  Why  does  she  not  culti- 
vate the  wrild  thorn-apple  tree  and  the  haw,  both  of  which  should 
appeal  to  her  housewifely  instincts,  as  both  fruits  make  such  deli- 
cious jelly!  I  wish  she  could  see  our  golden-rod  field,  a  waving 
mass  of  sweetness  in  September,  which  the  bees  know  well!  The 
high  sumacs  shelter  it,  and  the  pale  asters,  both  white  and  mauve, 
carry  the  exquisite  color  scheme  on  into  the  depths  of  the  forest. 
Tall  evening  primroses  and  mulleins  lift  their  delicate  flowers  to  the 
lips  of  sphynx  moths  and  butterflies,  and  everywhere  the  bramble 
clambers,  always  beautiful  from  early  Spring's  green  leaves  and 
crimson  stems  through  flowers  and  unripe  berries  to  perfected  fruit. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
OUR  NEAREST  NEIGHBORS. 

WE  found  our  nearest  neighbors  rather  exclusive  at  first 
and  not  disposed  to  receive  strangers  into  their  charmed 
circle,  but  our  circumspect  behavior  and  consideration  for  their 
feelings  finally  overcame  their  prejudices,  and  they  deigned  to 
visit  us.  even  to  break  bread  with  us.  figuratively  speaking,  and 
some  of  them  became  very  friendly  indeed. 

As  the  little  striped  chipmunks,  or  hackees,  that  darted  over 
the  lawn  and  from  shelter  to  shelter  along  the  terrace,  .seemed  the 
most  difficult  to  conciliate,  \ve  began  with  them.  A  brass  jar 
half  full  of  English  filberts  which  happened  to  he  in  the  house 
was  set  outside  and  we  watched  to  see  whether  or  not  they  would 
find  them, 

In  less  than  ten  minutes  Jerry,  as  he  was  soon  named,  >niffing 
along  in  a  jerky,  roundabout  fashion,  had  climbed  over  the  edge 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

and  dipped  down  for  the  slippery  nuts.  After  once  discovering 
them  he  wasted  no  time,  but  stuffed  his  cheek-pouches,  and  dashed 
back  to  his  home  near  the  cellar  window.  Over  and  over  again, 
until  the  jar  was  empty,  did  he  go  back  and  forth.  I  put  out  shelled 
corn.  Again  the  provident  Jerry  filled  his  household  bins 
until  the  supply  was  exhausted,  always  returning  for  a  final  look 
into  the  empty  receptacle.  I  went  out  and  sat  about  a  yard  from 
the  jar,  dropping  shelled  pecans  in  a  little  circle  around  me.  It 
took  half  an  hour  of  timid  reconnoitring,  of  sudden  dashes  back- 
ward and  sudden  plunges  forward,  before  he  could  persuade  himself 
that  this  exceedingly  tempting  food  covered  no  danger,  and  that 
the  objects  sitting  on  the  bench  near  had  no  harmful  purpose. 
Nearer  and  nearer  I  placed  the  brass  jar  day  by  day  and  uncon- 
sciously nearer  and  nearer  came  my  neighbor,  but  with  one  eye 
always  on  guard;  his  soul  was  full  of  suspicion. 

One  day  I  settled  myself  down  for  a  siege  to  his  affections. 
I  armed  myself  with  shelled  nuts  and  white  grapes  and  sat  motion- 
less, the  brass  jar  in  my  lap.  It  took  him  two  hours  to  make  up 
his  mind  to  trust  me.  I  occasionally  dropped  an  earnest  of  my 
treasures  at  my  feet,  making  as  little  motion  as  possible.  These 
were  eagerly  snapped  up.  I  held  a  nut  in  my  hand  on  the  ground 
until  my  arm  was  stiff,  before  he  finally  snatched  it.  I  placed  more 
nuts  along  the  bench  and  up  into  my  lap ;  and  great  was  my  satis- 
faction when  I  at  last  felt  his  trembling,  palpitating  little  body  rest- 
ing against  me,  as  he  gave  one  deep  look  into  my  eyes,  before  he 

194 


HE   HEARS    A   SOUND   OF    D  ANGER 


INTENDING   TO   CARRY   AWAY    EVERY   BIT   OF   FOOD   IN   SIGHT 


OUR     NEAREST    NEIGHBORS 

took  that  dangerous  plunge  into  the  jar  for  food.  Once  done  there 
was  no  further  hesitation  on  that  morning;  he  came  and  went 
with  his  accustomed  regularity  between  the  bench  and  his  home 
until  every  bit  was  stowed  away. 

This  patient  process  had  to  be  repeated  manv  times.  Xo 
sudden  movements  were  ever  permitted  on  my  part,  and  at  last  he 
learned  to  sit  on  my  hand  and  eat,  to  wash  his  clean  little  face 
with  his  dexterous  paws,  and  to  scold  sharply  from  my  lap  at  any 
intruding  mate.  I  carried  a  jar  to  the  window-box  of  my  own  room 
on  the  second  floor,  and  he  in  some  way  divined  it  and  climbed  up 
the  chimney  with  zest  for  the  food.  Sometimes  in  the  early  morn- 
ing, if  the  jar  was  empty,  I  could  even  hear  a  delicate  scratching 
on  the  screen  to  attract  my  attention.  They  tell  a  tale,  that  once 
when  I  was  absent,  Jerry  was  found  on  the  desk  in  my  room  look- 
ing disconsolately  about,  although  how  he  got  there  no  one  could 
discover.  Tom,  from  the  east  porch,  soon  found  the  new  and  cu- 
rious food  on  the  terrace,  and  immediately  followed  the  example  of 
his  brother  chipmunk. 

It  is  astonishing  how  much  they  can  carry  in  those  expansible 
pouches  of  theirs.  We  once  put  eighteen  kernels  of  corn  a  foot 
apart  with  a  peanut  at  the  end  of  the  row,  and  one  saucy  fellow 
tucked  every  kernel  into  his  pouches  bit  by  bit,  the  peanut  was 
caught  by  the  end  somehow,  and  away  he  ran  with  the  whole  loot. 
One  of  them,  "  Iris,  "  because  his  home  was  close  to  the  iris  glade, 

has  a  wonderful  underground  system  of  galleries  and  chambers, 

197 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

judging  by  the  amount  of  provender  he  has  stowed  there  this 
season,  and  I  hope  he  has  a  dry  and  well  drained  storehouse,  or 
some  of  his  food  will  spoil.  He  formed  the  habit  of  cracking  the 
peanuts  and  extracting  their  kernels  on  the  spot,  which  enabled 
him  to  carry  sixteen  or  eighteen  at  a  time.  I  never  saw  the  others 
crack  a  nut  except  to  eat  it  at  once. 

We  buy  our  corn  by  the  sack  and  our  peanuts  by  the  barrel 
now,  and  if  the  entire  quantity  Avere  placed  where  the  chipmunk 
could  get  at  it,  he  would  not  stop,  I  am  sure,  until  every  bit  was 
safely  stored  in  his  underground  burrow.  He  is  untiring,  quick, 
and  single-minded.  When  there  are  no  nuts  out,  he  climbs  up 
the  back  of  the  porch  chair,  places  his  small  paws  piteously  upon 
his  stomach  and  peers  into  the  dining-room  as  if  to  ask:  "Is 
there  nobody  at  home  ?  Are  we  to  be  neglected  ?  "  Must  I  con- 
fess that  on  warm  summer  noons,  when  I  am  alone,  I  have  my 
luncheon  in  the  dog-trot  with  only  a  screen  to  separate  me  from 
the  table  spread  for  the  squirrels  and  the  chipmunks  ?  The  robins, 
the  catbirds,  and  the  red-headed  woodpeckers  help  themselves 
to  the  cherries  so  temptingly  displayed,  and  there  is  no  more 
quarrelling  than  there  would  be  among  the  same  number  of  young 
children  if  left  to  themselves. 

By  mid-November,  it  gets  pretty  cold  for  Mr.  Chipmunk.  Hav- 
ing a  home  fully  stocked  with  provisions,  why  should  he  go  forth  ? 
But  the  big  gray  squirrel  with  his  thick  winter  coat,  every  hair 

tipped  with  white,  comes  waggling  in  bow-legged  fashion  to  the 

198 


THOSE   EXPANSIBLE   POUCH KS 


HAVING    HIS    BRKAKHAST 


PERFECTLY   AT   HOME 


TIRELESS  AND   SINGLE-MINDED 


OUR     NEAREST    NEIGHBORS 

stone  bench.  He,  too,  well  knows  the  brass  jar  of  nuts  or  corn, 
and  when  the  stock  gets  low  he  has  learned  that  a  blow  of  his  paw 
will  send  it  toppling  over,  spreading  in  more  convenient  fashion 
its  store  of  food.  At  first  there  was  great  leaping  and  scurrying  at 
the  sound  of  the  falling  brass;  but  now  a  mere  turning  of  the  body, 
hardly  an  interruption  to  the  feast,  greets  it.  The  squirrels  an- 
beautiful  creatures,  leaping  from  branch  to  branch,  making  great 
bounds  across  the  lawn  and  sitting  in  such  contented  fashion,  five 
or  six  at  a  time,  along  the  terrace  at  their  midday  meal.  \Y<- 
named  our  first  squirrel  Mark  because  one  of  his  ears  was  slit,  so 
that  I  imagined  I  could  always  recognize  him.  I  became  doubt- 
ful about  this  later,  when  I  found  that  nearly  all  squirrels  have  one 
or  both  ears  so  cut.  As  the  season  advanced  I  was  chagrined  to 
discover  that  I  had  mistaken  the  sex  of  my  neighbor;  but  we  had 
become  attached  to  the  name  by  this  time,  so  we  added  Hannah, 
and  Mark-Hannah  he  —  no,  she  —  is  to  this  day. 

We  found  the  old  squirrels  more  difficult  to  tame  than  the 
chipmunks;  but  by  taking  the  young  ones  and  keeping  them  in  a 
box  for  three  months,  feeding  and  handling  them,  when  liberated 
they  were  perfectly  at  home  and  trusted  every  man.  One  of  these, 
Bob,  was  our  special  pet;  he  perched  on  my  shoulder  while  I 
weeded,  ran  down  into  my  pockets  for  nuts,  followed  us  through 
the  woods  like  a  dog,  and  even  crawled  into  the  house,  although 
that  was  against  the  rule.  For  two  years  he  sat  by  us  at  our  sew- 
ing, ate  at  our  meal-time,  and  we  loved  him;  but  his  lack  of  suspi- 

201 


OUR        COUNTRY        HOME 

cion  cost  him  his  life,  —  he  was  caught  in  a  trap,  and  we  truly 
mourned  him. 

The  chipmunk  is  so  much  more  active  than  the  squirrel  that 
the  latter,  despite  his  greater  strength,  has  little  chance  in  the 
race  for  food.  Fortunately  there  was  always  enough  for  all.  I 
wonder  that  we  do  not  have  peanut  patches  all  over  our  lawn, 
for  the  care  with  which  the  squirrel  pats  down  his  nuts  would,  I 
should  think,  effectively  prevent  his  ever  finding  them.  That  we 
have  not,  shows  he  must  dig  them  up  again  during  the  winter. 
I  have  never  known  gray  squirrels  to  molest  the  eggs  or  young  of 
birds,  and  as  for  their  driving  birds  away,  look  at  Central  Park  in 
New  York,  or  the  Park  at  Richmond,  and  parks  in  many  a  smaller 
place.  It  is  direct  proof  to  the  contrary. 

I  studied  for  some  time  to  find  out  how  I  could  provide  a  feed- 
ing place  for  the  birds  which  the  squirrels  could  not  reach.  One 
snowy  morning  I  hung  a  basket  filled  with  chopped  nuts  and  suet 
by  a  long  string  from  a  slender  branch  of  the  maple  tree.  The 
chickadees  discovered  it  at  once,  and  the  nut-hatches  flew  down 
in  delight.  Up  from  the  snow  sheet  below  stretched  Mark  the 
squirrel.  No ;  it  was  too  high  to  get  at  in  that  way.  Like  a  flash 
he  climbed  the  tree,  balanced  just  above  the  basket  and  sniffed 
eagerly  at  the  tempting  food.  The  string  was  too  small  for  him 
to  clasp.  Suspended  by  his  toes  he  still  failed  to  make  the  dis- 
tance. A  perplexed  thoughtfulness  possessed  him  as  he  sat  there 

on  guard,  until  his  tail  began  to  quiver  a  bit  as  if  in  anger,  though 

202 


HAVIX<;    HIS    I'KTl'KK    TAKKN 


BOB   AT   BRKAK1  AST 


OUR     NEAREST     NEIGHBORS 

Mark  was  a  philosopher  and  wasted   little  time  on  useless  effort. 
Suddenly  it  seemed  as  if  a  bright  idea  had  occurred  to  him.     He 
carefully  reached  down  to  draw  the  string  up.     It  did  not  slip !    An- 
other turn  and  yet  another  in  true  sailor  fashion,  and  the  basket 
was  held  at  his  level  with  one  tiny  paw  while  he  helped  himself  wit  h 
the  other.     It  was  most  cunning,  but  it  defeated   my  purpose. 
Another  way  must  be  found.     I  tried  the  basket  at  the  end  of  a 
long  iron  rod  only  one-sixteenth  of  an  inch  in  diameter,  hooked 
over  the  swinging  limb :   surely  Mr.  Squirrel  would  never  trust  him- 
self to  that  frail  support.     It  was  quite  a  week  before  he  dared, 
but  the  temptation  was  too  great,  and  one  morning  down  he  slid, 
bumping  into  the  basket  and  scattering  the  peanuts  on  the  snow 
below.     Whether  I  saw  him  the  first  time  he  did  it  or  not  I  cannot 
be  sure;  but  as  soon  as  I  did  see  him,  I  rushed  out  to  frighten  him. 
Instantly  he  scrambled  up  the  slender  rod  with  amazing  dexterity. 
We  greased  it  with  lard,  which  did  no  more  than  lend  added  flavor 
to  his  feast;  and  now  Mark  is  in  possession  and  I  am  wonder- 
ing what  I  can  do  next  to  provide  my  feathered  proteges  with  a 
private  table. 

The  woodchuck  or  ground  hog  is  an  interesting  creature.  He 
is  so  nearly  the  color  of  the  boulders  that  if  he  keeps  still  in  the 
open  when  among  them,  only  his  final  gentle  lope,  as  you  approach 
too  near,  betrays  him.  I  wish  he  were  not  so  fond  of  early  vege- 
tables and  even  of  late  seedlings.  The  other  day  he  took  a  fancy  to 

• 

some  newly  set  out  columbines,  and  in  three  hours  all  the  tops  were 

205 


OUR        COUNTRY       H    O    M    K 

gone.     He  is  intelligent,  too.  and  knows  traps  as  far  as  he  can  see 
them;  for  him  and  for  Molly  Cottontail  the  only  resource  is  a  gun. 

One  other  four-footed  creature  comes  into  our  woodland  with- 
out invitation  and  gets  no  welcome.  Two  polecats  this  summer, 
driven  from  a  neighboring  estate,  took  possession  of  a  woodchuck's 
hole  with  its  two  entrances,  a  roomy  and  comfortable  mansion 
ready  to  be  furnished.  Here  in  the  solitude  of  the  forest  they  lived 
peacefully.  Perhaps  it  would  not  be  best  to  inquire  about  their 
food.  We  keep  no  chickens.  An  enthusiastic  but  rather  ignor- 
ant young  visitor  came  in  from  the  woods  one  morning  with  thrill 
ing  tales  of  a  "wild  cat  all  black  and  white. '  which  he  had  seen, 
peering  from  a  hole  in  the  ground.  A  scouting  expedition  was 
sent  out  and,  later,  an  armed  detachment,  with  a  result  that  there 
were  five  fewer  skunks  on  earth;  but  the  odor  hung  over  the 
forest  for  hours. 

I  have  learned  to  endure,  even  to  admire,  at  a  distance,  that 
natural  enemy  of  woman,  the  snake.  This  admiration  applies 
specifically  to  the  small  and  innocent  garden  snake  which  eats  the 
aphides  on  the  roses  and  keeps  the  spiraeas  healthy.  In  the  woods 
they  frequently  dart  across  the  quiet  pathways,  and  for  years  they 
have  made  a  nest  in  a  bed  of  shrubbery  near  the  lake.  This  sum- 
mer one  became  so  tame  that  he  lived  under  the  south  terrace  wall, 
frequently  sunning  himself  on  the  top,  and  apparently  not  at  all 
disturbed  as  I  snipped  and  weeded  near  him.  Being  of  an  adven- 
turous spirit  he  was  soon  at  home  on  the  terrace  itself,  and  even 

206 


'THK  CHIPPY  is  COMI.V;" 


THE   SOUTH   TERRACE   WALL 


OUR      NEAREST     NEIGHBORS 

meandered  over  the  window-boxes.  I  felt  he  was  doing  such  good 
work  that  I  must  not  allow  any  foolish  prejudice  to  bias  me,  but 
when  one  morning  he  was  found  actually  inside  the  screened  dog- 
trot, close  to  the  dining-room  door,  I  rebelled;  and  that  one  snake 
was  sacrificed,  a  victim  of  overweening  ambition. 

I  often  wondered,  those  first  few  weeks  as  I  looked  from  my 
window,  what  that  queer-shaped  object  swimming  across  the  bay 
could  be  —  a  turtle,  perhaps;  but  even  to  my  ignorant  eyes  the 
head  seemed  much  too  large,  as  he  turned  his  pointed  nose  upward 
and  his  bright  eyes  looked  warily  about.  It  was  only  a  muskrat 
doing  his  daily  exercises.  His  nest  remains  an  unexplored  country 
to  me.  Probably  the  kingfisher  knows  all  about  it,  for  he  seems 
to  be  always  on  guard  and  his  kindly  rattle  warns  the  lesser  binl> 
when  danger  is  at  hand. 

There  are  turtles,  for  we  see  them  often  basking  in  the  sun  on 
the  flat  boulders  near  the  lily  pads.  One  of  them  strayed  toward 
the  house  the  other  day.  We  admired  the  beautifully  colored 
marks  upon  his  big  body,  but  kept  him  only  long  enough  to  find 
out  that  he  was  the  Western  painted  turtle,  then  took  him  back  to 
his  happy  hunting  grounds  in  the  waters  of  the  bay.  One  morn- 
ing in  July  we  discovered  one  of  these  turtles  laying  her  eggs  in  a 
hole  she  had  made  in  the  gravel  of  the  shore  path.  Whether  our 
presence  frightened  her  away  or  not  I  do  not  know,  but  after  she 
had  gone  we  took  the  four  eggs  and  put  them  carefully  in  a  big 

pottery  bowl,  covered  them  with  gravel  and  placed  the  bowl  on  the 

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OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

upper  porch.  We  read  everything  we  could  find  about  turtles, 
for  our  ignorance  was  dense.  It  would  be  three  months,  our  au- 
thority said,  before  the  eggs  hatched.  We  planned  to  mark  the 
young  turtles  in  some  way  in  order  to  follow  their  career.  The 
rain  fell  on  them  and  the  sun  beat  down  upon  them  just  as  if  they 
had  not  been  disturbed  in  the  gravel  by  the  shore,  but  it  all  resulted 
in  less  than  naught, —  we  had  forgotten  the  one  essential  thing, 
drainage,  and  the  eggs  spoiled. 

Sitting  by  the  pier  one  afternoon,  in  October,  looking  idly  but 
with  a  certain  discrimination  at  the  overhanging  trees  and  the  low 
underbrush,  I  was  attracted  by  a  quickly  moving  object,  darting 
from  shelter  to  shelter  along  the  pebbly  shore.  A  low,  flat  head,  a 
long,  crouched-down  brown  body,  and  a  round  bushy  tail  fled 
under  the  pier.  I  waited,  my  eyes  fixed  on  the  other  side.  In  a 
moment  he  thrust  his  head  out  from  under  the  timbers  and  looked 
cautiously  about,  his  keen  eye  watching  my  very  breath.  Every- 
thing seemed  safe,  I  was  motionless,  he  ran  rapidly  along  the 
shore  and  disappeared  around  the  bay  —  affording  me  a  good 
look  at  him.  Yes,  without  a  doubt  it  was  a  mink.  Here  was  a  sign 
of  the  wilderness  indeed.  I  rejoiced.  Did  he  occasionally  regale 
himself  with  freshly  laid  eggs  ?  We  must  forgive  him,  for  his  usual 
diet  is  fish,  although  he  also  catches  rats  and  mice.  When  we  took 
up  the  pier  for  the  winter  we  found  a  great  heap  of  empty  clam 
shells.  Evidently  we  had  uncovered  his  favorite  picnic  ground. 

Three  years  later  we  discovered  more  about  the  habits  of  the 

210 


OUR      NEAREST      NEIGHBORS 

mink.  It  was  always  a  pleasure  to  sit  on  the  south  terrace  in  the 
fading  twilight,  to  see  the  sun's  last  rays  touch  grass  and  shrub  and 
tree,  until  the  water  changed  to  silver  and  dark  gray.  At  this  time 
of  night  the  air  was  filled  with  the  fragrance  of  the  roses,  the  sweet 


(,OL1>-1  ISHIS'     JIOMK 


c»eraniums,  the  honeysuckles,  und  above  all,  the  rich  scent  of  the 

J~>  • 

jasmine  growing  close  to  the  terrace  wall.  One  evening  in  July  we 
were  about  to  take  our  usual  big  chairs  under  the  open  sky,  when 
instead  of  sweet  scents,  a  dreadful  odor  greeted  us;  the  guests,  at 
first  too  polite  to  be  frank,  sat  calmly  quiet,  but  the  hosts  hunted  for 
the  cause.  Could  our  perfect  drainage  system  have  broken  down  ? 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

Had  an  adventurous  mouse  been  caught  in  a  water  jar  ?  No,  none  of 
these  things;  a  sensible  mink,  quick  to  adapt  herself  to  new  condi- 
tions, had  built  her  nest  in  the  terrace  drain-pipe  near  the  lake,  and 
here  she  had  naturally  stored  a  fine  supply  of  dead  fish  for  her 
interesting  family  of  four  young  daughters.  We  were  loath  to 
disturb  so  charming  a  household,  but  there  are  limits  within  which 
even  the  wild  creatures  of  the  wood  must  be  kept. 

I  am  very  fond  of  pets,  but  I  never  strained  my  affections  to  the 
extent  of  including  goldfish  among  them.  So  it  was  with  rather 
a  sinking  sensation  that  one  evening  I  received  by  express  a  pail 
of  water  with  holes  pierced  in  the  cover  and  six  small  goldfish  gaily 
swimming  around  therein.  I  put  them  in  the  fountain  in  the 
formal  garden,  arranging  some  flat  rocks  over  the  gravel  in  order 
that  they  might  have  secluded  corners.  They  did  look  pretty 
under  the  softly  dropping  water,  with  the  sun  reflecting  back  from 
their  golden  scales.  I  began  to  feel  my  old  prejudices  fast  disap- 
pearing. The  Constant  Improver  brought  out  a  collection  of  fish 
food,  and  I  must  acknowledge  that  our  new  pets  were  no  more 
trouble.  When  I  had  to  be  away  I  am  sure  they  were  never  forgot- 
ten, as  my  little  maid  felt  so  sorry  for  them.  "  They  cannot  come  up 
and  beg  for  their  food  like  those  fat  squirrels  and  pert  young  chip- 
munks ! "  Of  course  when  the  Ice  King  appeared  something  had 
to  be  devised  for  the  goldfish.  We  put  a  cork  in  one  of  the  big 
terra-cotta  saucers  thirty  inches  across  and,  with  the  aid  of  gravel 

and  rocks  and  sea-weed,  made  an  excellent  imitation  pond,  where, 

212 


OUR      NEAREST     N  E  I  G  II  B  O  R  S 

in  the  dog-trot  among  the  chrysanthemums  and  the  jasmine  tlu> 
goldfish  might  think  summer  had  come  again. 

Although  we  have  formed  for  ourselves  an  attractive  social  circle 
among  the  inhabitants  of  our  wild  woods,  we  have  by  no  means 
made  the  acquaintance  of  all  the  neighbors.  We  trust  that  our 
discreet  conduct  and  recognition  of  their  rights  and  privileges  nia\ 
in  time  lead  to  that  complete  understanding  which  is  the  foundation 
of  true  friendship.  For  no  living  organism  in  this  small  domain 
of  ours  is  too  insignificant  to  awaken  our  wondering  awe  as  we 
perceive,  little  by  little,  the  habits  and  daily  life  of  all  the  creatures 
about  us.  and  marvel  greatly  at  their  variety  and  beauty. 


213 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
A   LINE  A   DAY. 

WHEN  we  first  conceived  the  happy  idea  of  entering  upon  a 
country  life,  a  dear  friend  gave  me  a  Line-a-Day  Book. 
Every  one  knows  it  —  blank  leaves,  a  kind  of  diary,  but  with  the 
pages  dated  for  five  years.  For  any  one  contemplating  such  an 
experience  as  ours,  this  little  book  should  be  enrolled  among  the 
necessities.  When  I  look  at  its  pages  a  series  of  half -formed  pic- 
tures floats  across  my  vision,  and  each  day  brings  a  story  to  my  mind. 
In  mine  I  noted  the  first  and  last  appearance  of  the  flowers  and 
the  vegetables,  and  when  they  were  at  their  best.  I  also  set  down 
the  coming  and  going  of  the  different  birds,  with  something  of  their 
habits,  as  I  saw  them.  That  first  summer  every  feathered  creature 
was  to  me  a  bird  and  nothing  more;  the  only  one  I  knew  with 
absolute  certainty  was  that  wretched  imitation,  the  English  spar- 
row. How  many  years  I  had  wasted  —  learning  the  languages 
of  mankind,  for  instance!  Here  was  the  whole  bird-world 
to  explore! 

Some  one  has  said:     "It  is  the  acquiring  of  knowledge,  not 

the  knowledge  acquired,  that  adds  to  our  happiness."     It  may  be 

214 


LINE 


DAY 


so.  In  either  case  I  saw  a  delightful  field  opening  temptingly  be- 
fore me,  and  after  the  manner  of  all  converts  I  rushed  into  it  with 
enthusiasm.  For  example,  robins  may  seem  an  ordinary  fact  to 
experienced  country  residents,  but  when  they  adopted  our  house 
as  their  home  and  established  eight  nests  on  as  many  different 


KOBIN  S    NEST    IX    BITTER-SWEET  TANGLE 

window  ledges,  we  felt  that  we  had  become  one  with  the  wild  life 
about  us.  I  shall  not  forget  the  protesting  expostulations  of  one 
prim  New  England  woman  who  cried,  "  Did  you  let  them  stay  ? 
The  untidy  things!"  I  wanted  to  take  her  to  my  own  window 
where  a  robin  had  used  the  same  nest  two  years  in  succession,  that 
she  might  see  what  model  housekeepers,  what  neat  and  particular 

mothers,  these  same  robins  are. 

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OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

My  Line-a-Day  Book  always  lies  on  the  library  table  ready  for 
reference  or  the  entertainment  of  an  idle  moment.  Although  it 
has  no  illustrations  it  does  not  lack  for  pictures.  I  open  it  at 
random. 

April  26  —  It  was  a  still,  cold  morning  without  a  breath  of 
\vind.  Not  a  twig  stirred,  and  the  lake  was  like  glass;  the  song- 
sparrows  poured  forth  their  joy  in  the  sunlit  air,  while  a  chorus  of 
clear,  musical,  rhythmic  whistles  greeted  my  waking  ears.  What 
bird  was  it  ?  This  was  a  new  song.  I  searched  the  branches  and 
favorite  perches  from  my  open  window.  To  be  sure  the  white- 
throated  sparrows  were  hopping  about  the  terraces  unconcernedly 
eating  their  breakfast  of  oats  and  chopped  peanuts  with  the  juncos. 
Could  they  be  the  songsters  ?  Yes,  there  on  the  swaying  rose- 
stem  was  one  of  the  beautifully  marked  little  creatures;  I  shall 
not  soon  forget  my  sensations  as  he  looked  straight  into  my  eyes 
while  he  opened  his  tiny  beak  and  deliberately  sang  me  on 3  of  his 
choicest  bits. 

April  30  —  To  find  the  first  song-sparrow's  nest  in  the  long 
grass !  One  confiding  specimen  built  in  some  straw  left  overnight 
close  to  the  garden  walk.  The  straw  containing  that  nest  was 
carefully  walked  around  and  thoughtfully  guarded  against  all 
intrusion  for  weeks,  until  four  small  song-sparrows  were  able  to  fly 
off  in  safety. 

May  2  —  On  either  side  of  our  hooded  entrance  are  small 

shelves,  exactly  the  right  size  for  a  good  home.     No  right-minded 

216 


L    I    N    E 


1)    A    Y 


robins  could  neglect  such  an  opportunity,  and  there  they  built, 
slightly  disturbed  when  too  much  company,  in  too  hilarious  a  mood 
alighted  at  that  front  door,  but  quickly  back  to  their  duties  when 
quiet  reigned  again.  Just  above  the  robins'  nests  a  phoebe  found 
a  shelter  and  glued  her  mossy  cup  against  the  rough  brown  rafters. 


THK    ROBIN'S    ARAUCARIA 

Another  has  for  three  years  used  the  same  nest  just  over  the  up- 
stairs porch,  and  there  are  always  two  broods.  Once  a  baby 
phoebe,  too  young  to  fly.  fell  out  —  and  such  a  calling  and  flutter- 
ing! We  brought  up  a  step-ladder  and,  amid  great  protests  from 
the  parent  birds,  the  Constant  Improver  picked  up  the  fledgling 
and  replaced  her  snugly  in  the  nest. 


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OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

June  5  —  Hoping  to  furnish  our  bare  expanse  of  terrace  at 
once,  we  brought  from  the  city  our  big  palms  and  araucarias. 
Later  we  found  that  they  clashed  with  their  surroundings  and  took 
from  the  woodsy  look  of  the  place,  so  we  gave  them  all  away. 
One  morning,  when  the  wind  was  blowing  a  gale,  we  moved  the 
big  araucaria,  twelve  feet  high,  to  a  sheltered  corner  on  the  north, 
close  to  the  coat-room  window.  When  we  went  to  put  it  back  on 
the  south  terrace,  the  next  day,  behold  a  robin  had  taken  possession 
and  with  bill  half-full  of  straws,  watched  us  in  apprehension. 
Did  we  carry  out  our  intention  ?  By  no  means.  The  tree  stayed 
in  that  cosy  corner  for  over  four  weeks,  and  we  watched  the 
entire  home  life  of  those  industrious  birds  from  the  little  window 
not  three  feet  away.  The  last  one  left  the  nest  at  half-past 
seven  o'clock  on  Monday  morning,  just  as  our  guests  were  going 
to  the  train.  It  was  a  pretty  sight  to  see  his  daring  swagger,  his 
outlook  on  the  big  world,  the  coaxing  parents  not  far  away,  and 
finally  his  courageous  start  and  successful  swoop  down  to  a  bush, 
where  a  fat  grub  rewarded  his  bravery.  At  one  time  we  were 
watching  more  than  thirty  nests  of  various  kinds,  and  a  fascinat- 
ing study  it  was! 

June  13  —  We  found  at  last  the  redstart's  nest  in  a  lilac  bush 
close  to  the  south  window  of  the  cottage.  They  were  the  first  birds 
I  learned  to  identify  after  the  robins.  It  was  impossible  not  to 
become  acquainted  with  them,  they  were  so  friendly  and  tame,  so 

cheerful  and  busy.     And  no  wonder,  with  four  small  —  I  mean 

218 


THE    BIRD   BATH 


THE   BIRD   BATH   IN   EARLY  SPRING 


A       L    I    N    E       A       I)    A    Y 

large  —  mouths  to  fill.  It  was  a  constant  amazement  to  me,  this 
seeing  a  nestling  split  in  two,  as  it  were,  when  the  mother  arrived 
with  food. 

June  16  —  1  watched  a  yellow-billed  cuckoo  feeding  her  three 
fuzzy  little  ones  this  morning.  What  a  rickety,  tumble-down 
nest !  It  was  only  four  feet  from  the  ground  in  a  honeysuckle  bush 
at  the  edge  of  the  lawn.  I  saw  a  cuckoo  in  May  and  heard  her 
curious  call.  There  are  plenty  of  tent-caterpillars  about  to  tempt 
her  to  stay  with  us. 

July  2  —  The  humming-bird  family  down  by  the  greenhouse 
are  almost  ready  to  fly.  In  fact,  the  little  ones  seem  the  same  size 
as  their  parents,  except  that  their  bills  are  shorter.  It  has  been 
most  entertaining  to  watch  them.  The  mother  did  not  mind  the 
hammering  and  sawing  or  the  constant  presence  of  workmen  within 
thirty  feet  of  her  nest.  To  be  sure,  she  was  on  a  maple  branch 
twenty  feet  from  the  ground,  and  admitted  no  nearer  acquaintance, 
as  the  Constant  Improver  found  to  his  cost  when  he  climbed  a 
ladder  to  get  a  closer  view;  she  darted  at  him  viciously,  and  he 
retreated  before  she  could  strike.  We  took  our  camp-stools  and 
glasses  and  watched  the  tireless  industry  of  this  wee  creature. 
What  is  she  bringing  now  ?  Surely  not  one  of  those  hideous 
seventeen-year  locusts  almost  as  big  as  herself!  It  is  the  locust! 
She  dashes  him  against  the  branch  until  he  has  become  pulp-like, 
then  tears  him  to  pieces  and  stuffs  incredibly  large  mouthfuls  down 
the  baby's  throat. 


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OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

July  7  —  The  oven  birds  are  calling  "  Teacher,  Teacher,"  in  the 
deep  woods,  the  great  ruffed  grouse  whirr  into  the  air  at  our 
approach,  and  melt  into  the  surrounding  foliage  so  completely  that 
the  eye  fails  to  discover  them.  How  wonderful  is  the  unerring 
flight  of  a  bird  through  the  thick  forest !  Does  he  touch  a  twig  or 


WAITING    FOR   THE    HUMMING    BIRDS   TO    FLT 

turn  a  leaf  in  his  swift  motion  ?  And  their  silence  in  the  autumn! 
They  alight  not  far  from  you,  and  you  have  not  heard  a  sound; 
you  turn  for  the  glass,  and  they  are  gone. 

July  8  —  This  morning  a  red-headed  woodpecker  came  over 
to  the  bird  bath  and,  seeing  cherries  hanging  on  the  forsythia  bush, 

helped  himself  joyously  and  flew  away.     Soon  after,  another  ap- 

222 


A       LINE       A       DAY 

peared  and  he  also  carried  off  a  cherry  in  his  bill.     We  began 
throwing  the  cherries  in  the  grass  when  we  heard  the  birds  calling, 
and  down  one  would  sweep  from  the  tree  close  by  and  off  he  would 
go,  returning  in  an  instant  for  more.     By  watching,  we  discovered 
their  nest  in  the  linden  tree  overhanging  the  entranceway.     The 
braver  bird,  the  quicker  to  learn  faith  in  humankind,  I  took  for  the 
father,  although  the  markings  of  the  sexes  are  identical.     A  few 
days  later  we  saw  two  young  ones  as  big  as  their  parents  but  with- 
out the  red  heads ;  they  clung  in  a  crotch  of  the  linden  and  the  father 
and  mother  fed  them,  turn  and  turn  about.     The  week  after,  hear- 
ing a  great  scolding  from  the  suet -tree,  we  rushed  to  the  window; 
there  was  the  red-headed  woodpecker,  and  there  were  the  cherries, 
but  what  was  the  trouble  ?     No  enemy  was  in  sight.     The  mother 
bird  threw  herself  from  side  to  side  on  the  tree  calling  vigorously, 
her  mate  joined  her,  and  they  took  turns  in  calling.    At  length,  fully 
twenty  minutes  later,  timidly,  but  with  a  rush,  one  of  the  young 
ones  appeared  on  the  next  tree,  soon  followed  by  the  second,  more 
afraid  to  be  left  alone  than  to  brave  the  unknown  perils  at  the 
other  side  of  the  lawn.    Much  pleased,  down  flew  Papa  Woodpeck- 
er, but  he  did  not  touch  the  cherry,  he  waited .     That  was  too  much ; 
no  young  one  was  going  to  feed  himself.     Mamma  Woodpecker 
called  and  she  flew  down  and  looked  up  at  them,  saying  as  plainly 
as  a-b-c :     "  Do  come  down  and  get  this  fat  fruit ! "     But  the  chil- 
dren still  clung  sturdily  to  the  tree-trunks,  refusing  to  budge. 

Papa  took  a  cherry  up  to  them  and  there  were  sounds  expressive 

223 


OUR        COUNTRY       HOME* 

of  great  joy.  "  Now  you  know  how  nice  it  is,  you  will  come  down 
and  help  yourselves  like  good  children."  And  little  by  little,  from 
one  tree  to  another,  to  the  bush,  and  finally  to  the  grass,  down 
came  the  babies  and  were  glad.  After  that,  for  many  weeks,  we 
had  the  whole  family  on  our  hands.  They  would  snatch  the  fruit 


THE  THRUSHES'  NEST  IN  THE  TRIANGLE 

on  the  terrace  floor  within  three  feet  of  us,  and  they  splashed  in  the 
hollow  boulder  and  enjoyed  themselves  hugely.  One  pair  of  red- 
headed woodpeckers  stayed  here  all  last  winter  —  of  course,  I  am 
not  sure  that  it  was  this  same  one. 

July  9  —  The  wood  thrushes  sing  morning  and  evening  in  the 
deep  woods;   theirs  is  the  loveliest  song  of  all.     I  found  the  nest 


A       L    I    N    E       A       D    A    Y 

to-day,  about  nine  feet  from  the  ground  in  a  small  hickory,  twined 
with  bitter-sweet,  close  to  the  path.  With  my  long-handled  mirror 
I  watched  these  little  thrushes  daily,  waiting  to  see  them  leave  the 
nest.  Finally,  one  morning  they  were  so  lively  that  I  took  my 
small  folding  stool  and  glasses  and  sat  down,  note-book  in  hand, 
not  more  than  six  feet  away.  It  was  the  last  day  of  July,  and  hot. 
The  sun  was  shining  brightly  and  there  was  little  wind,  —  in  fact  a 
most  propitious  moment.  For  three  hours  I  sat  quiet  while  the 
small  thrushes  were  being  fed,  while  they  balanced  themselves 
on  the  edge  of  the  nest,  nibbled  a  leaf  which  swayed  temptingly 
near,  preened  themselves,  rested  quietly,  called  eagerly,  and  at 
last  sailed  forth,  one  at  a  time,  to  a  friendly  branch  near  the  ground. 
When  I  left  them  the  mother  had  them  all  together  in  a  secluded 
corner  and  was  teaching  them  already  to  hunt  on  the  ground  for 
their  food. 

July  12  — This  afternoon  just  before  dinner  two  baby  chimney- 
swifts  fell  down  into  the  dining-room,  followed  by  the  exquisitely 
wrought  nest.  What  were  AVC  to  do  with  them  !  They  were  l.arelv 
fledged,  and  cried  continuously.  One  we  put  back  up  the  chimney 
as  far  as  we  could  reach,  and  he  really  did  climb  up;  his  call  grew 
fainter  and  fainter  until  a  soft  whirr  of  welcome  greeted  him  and 
reassured  us.  But  the  other  seemed  weaker.  The  only  thing  I 
could  think  of  to  feed  him  was  milk,  so  we  procured  a  dropper  from 
the  medicine  closet  and  proceeded  to  administer  this  healthful 
beverage.  He  spluttered  a  good  deal  but  he  swallowed  it,  and  we 


0  I     R       C    O    U    N    T    R    Y       H    O    M    E 

began  to  be  more  hopeful  as  his  cries  ceased,  but  in  the  morning, 
whether  from  cold  or  from  hunger,  the  poor  little  chimney-swift 
was  dead. 

Aug.  1  — Even  when  working  with  my  back  to  that  tempting 
window  a  shadow  darts  across  the  sunlight,  and  before  I  can  reason 

1  have  turned  and  am  looking  out.     Was  it  a  falling  leaf  or  the 
downward  flight  of  a  wild  bird  ?     How  exquisite  the  poise  of  the 
wide-winged  hawk  overhead,  the  almost  imperceptible  turn,  the 
lift,  and  the  graceful  sweep  away  into  the  azure !     Is  he  an  enemy 
to  the  poultry  plant?     We  do  not  keep  chickens;   we  look  upon 
him  as  a  thing  of  beauty  only. 

Aug.  13  —  A  rainy  day,  not  our  usual  brief  thundery  deluge  out 
of  the  northwest,  but  a  soft  patter  of  drops  on  the  brick  terrace 
when  I  awoke,  and  a  smooth  gray  curtain  all  over  the  sky.  How 
pungent  the  perfume  of  each  aromatic  shrub  and  thirsty  leaf!  It 
is  as  if  the  earth  and  all  it  produces  could  not  be  grateful  enough 
for  its  keen  refreshment.  Even  the  birds  voice  their  thanksgiving; 
the  song-sparrow  trills  forth  his  exquisite  notes,  and  from  his  hang- 
ing basket  the  oriole  calls  in  delicious  melody. 

Aug.  24  —  What  peculiarly  attractive  birds  the  wax- wings  are! 
TKey  sit  quietly  and  in  so  polite  a  manner  that  you  may  examine 
their  neat  and  polished  appearance.  They  have  exactly  the  same 
taste  in  dress  as  the  high-class  Japanese,  exquisite  grays  with  a 
rose  tinge,  lovely  browns  with  the  sunshine  almost  coming  through, 

a  spot  of  red,  a  touch  of  yellow.     Every  year  a  colony  nests  in  the 

226 


MASTKK    WAXXVIXC;    AND    HIS    XKST 


A       LIN    E       A       I)    A    V 

poplar  grove  on  the  island.  It  is  a  tradition  on  the  countryside. 
This  year  we  found  a  couple  of  cedar  birds  had  gone  to  housekeep- 
ing close  to  the  path,  only  about  ten  feet  from  the  ground.  As  the 
nest  was  placed  in  a  tangle  of  wild  grape,  it  was  difficult  to  push 
the  long-handled  mirror  in  far  enough  to  see  the  downy  bodies  of 
the  babies.  We  watched  the  feeding,  the  different  approaches  of 
the  parents,  and  the  cleaning  of  the  nest,  this  last  being  usually 
done  by  Madame  alone. 

We  went  in  solemn  procession  at  about  half-past  nine  one  even- 
ing to  see  where  the  cedar  birds  slept.     The  man  with  the  step 
ladder  first,  the  Bird-Lady  carrying  the  lantern,  and  I,  tagging  on, 
io-norant  but  enthusiastic.     How  unfamiliar  everv  bush  and  tree 

O  » 

and  vine  looked  in  that  flickering  light!  I  began  to  have  a  fell<>\\ 
feeling  with  the  wide-eyed  little  maiden  on  the  stairway  "  where 
bears  are  so  liable  to  follow  one."  If  a  rabbit  had  leaped  across 
the  path  or  an  owl  hooted,  I  know  I  should  have  turned  and  fled  to 
the  safe  shelter  of  the  house;  but  everything  was  perfectly  silent. 
Down  the  path  and  over  the  bridge,  quietly  creeping  up  to  the 
poplar  tree,  we  turned  the  light  of  the  lantern  upward.  There 
sat  the  father  and  mother  birds  on  the  nest,  keeping  the  three  little 
ones  warm  beneath  them. 

Later  on  there  was  a  big  wind  storm,  and  in  the  morning  but 
one  little  cedar-bird  was  left  in  the  nest.  We  could  hear  the  other 
babies  calling  like  locusts,  in  the  grass,  but  find  them  we  could  not; 

we  finally  made  up  our  minds  that  we  must  take  pity  on  the  neg- 

229 


OUR       COUNTRY       HO    M    E 

lected  one  and  try  to  bring  it  up  by  hand.  We  saw  in  the  nest  a 
curious  seed  and  hunted  high  and  low  for  this  food.  We  tried  the 
wild  grape  and  the  woodbine  berries,  and  the  dogwoods  and  vibur- 
nums, at  least  four  species  of  each;  but  this  seed  had  a  different 
shape.  At  last  we  experimented  with  the  sweet  berries  of  the 
spikenard  and  the  astringent  wild  grape.  Master  Waxwing  oblig- 
ingly swallowed  these,  but  the  Concord  grapes  he  devoured  with 
exceeding  relish.  He  was  very  cunning,  and  without  a  particle  of 
fear.  He  curled  his  small  toes  around  my  finger  and  looked  at  his 
new  home  in  the  dog-trot  with  quite  an  air  of  proprietorship,  and 
it  was  such  fun  to  feed  him.  We  could  keep  him  quiet  only  by 
covering  him  with  a  tiny  cotton  quilt.  After  his  nap  he  would 
fairly  shout  for  food.  Even  the  Constant  Improver  was  pressed 
into  the  service,  and  Cherry,  as  we  named  him,  had  plenty  of  atten- 
tion. The  Bird-Lady  was  to  take  him  to  her  home  where  she  had 
other  bird  babies,  and  in  the  spring  he  was  to  come  back  to  be  freed 
on  the  island,  there  to  find  his  kinsfolk.  Alas  and  alack  for  human 
plans!  Poor  Cherry  met  with  a  sad  end.  In  some  way,  he  fell 
on  the  azalea  bush  while  helping  himself  to  the  aralia  berries  near, 
and  a  twig  pierced  his  eye. 

Oct.  12  —  The  nuthatches  fearlessly  dart  quite  near  to  the 
squirrel  or  alight  on  the  terrace,  just  below  the  bench.  I  wonder 
if  these  birds  store  away  food.  It  does  not  seem  as  if  they  could 
eat  the  amount  I  have  seen  them  take  away  in  an  hour.  Seven- 
teen times,  at  intervals  of  from  one  and  a  half  to  three  minutes, 

230 


A       LINE       A       DA    Y 

they  have  returned  to  the  stone  bench  to  carry  off  a  whole  peanut 
each  time.  Occasionally  the  nuthatch  rests  from  his  labors  and 
permits  himself  a  little  needed  refreshment.  He  carries  his  nut  in 
his  bill  to  the  heavy  bark  of  a  ne'^nboring  oak  where  he  fits  it  in 
tightly,  then  strikes  it  smartly  with  his  bill  until  he  can  get  at  the 
kernel.  If  pecans  or  peanuts  are  not  available,  he  will  eat  corn,  or 
even  crackers;  but  he  loves  the  suet  hung  against  the  tree,  close  by 
the  terrace.  So  does  the  hairy  woodpecker,  who  awaits  his  turn 
in  most  gallant  fashion;  but  not  so  the  haughty  blue-jay.  With  a 
caw  of  warning,  he  darts  at  the  dainty  morsel,  whatever  it  may  be, 
and  woe  unto  the  creature  who  gets  in  his  way!  He  sweeps  down 
to  the  squirrel's  brass  jar,  cocks  his  head  on  one  side,  flirts  out  one 
peanut  after  another  until  he  finds  one  to  his  taste,  hastily  swallows 
it  whole,  snatches  another,  and  is  off  to  the  garden  to  bury  it. 
Generally  his  mate  follows,  selecting  her  food  for  present  emergen- 
cies first,  and  eating  it  on  the  tree  close  by,  before  she  assists  in  the 
storing  process.  The  pair  carry  away  easily  fifty  nuts  in  a  half- 
hour.  We  do  not  see  the  blue- jay  in  the  summer;  indeed,  we  do 
not  encourage  his  settling  near;  but  in  winter  we  cannot  begrudge 
him  his  share  of  our  dainties.  There  is  enough  for  all.  He  is 
such  a  splendid-looking  creature,  and  I  actually  like  his  "swing- 
ing-gate" call. 

Oct.  25  —  Down  by  the  shore  in  a  forsythia  clump  to-day  I 
heard  a  low  warbling  song  and  looked  for  a  stray  canary,  but  the 

note  was  too  subdued.     The  gardener  said  it  looked  like  a  linnet, 

233 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

but  his  English  training  did  not  satisfy  me.  In  spite  of  patient 
search  with  the  glass  no  bird  was  to  be  seen,  but  every  now  and 
then  came  that  lovely  trilling  song.  Finally  ray  curiosity  drove  me 
too  near,  and  a  brown  bird  flew  into  the  air,  its  white  tail-quills 
betraying  it  at  once  —  the  vesper  sparrow.  Still  later  I  heard  his 
sweet  notes,  until  the  snow  flurries  of  December  drove  him  to 
warmer  climates. 

Nov.  3  —  What  a  joy  to  welcome  the  winter  birds  to  our  out- 
of-door  dining-room !  Quite  a  luncheon  party  to-day, —  four  squir- 
rels, two  chipmunks,  three  nut-hatches,  two  blue-jays,  one  little 
brown  creeper  with  his  insect-like  call,  a  downy  and  a  hairy  wood- 
pecker, four  chickadees,  and  four  vesper  sparrows.  What  a  good 
time  we  had ! 

Dec.  4  —  The  golden-crowned  kinglet  is  another  winter  visitor. 
One  can  hear  his  sharp  insistent  notes  among  the  berry  bushes  and 
see  him  hopping  along  the  bare  tree  boughs.  He  finds  plenty  to  eat 
for  himself  and  scorns  my  tempting  table,  but  he  is  a  friendly  little 
bit  of  sunlight,  and  permits  me  to  look  at  him  at  close  quarters. 

Jan.  11  — The  chickadees  are  too  cunning!  One  alights  on 
the  basket  hung  close  to  the  dining-room  window  and,  looking  in 
at  our  eager  faces,  sings  a  quaint  little  song  before  hopping  down 
into  the  bottom  for  the  nuts.  Another  carries  off  a  peanut,  shell 
and  all,  to  the  tree  branch  near,  where  she  cracks  it  by  striking  it 
with  her  bill,  extracts  the  kernel  and,  dropping  the  shell,  flies 

away  with  her  feast.     Still  another  works  many  minutes  over  a 

234 


I 

-t. 


'^to 


*£ 

V*fr.*  L  •% 

j,     >>-;     v^ 


THK    DOWNY    \V()f)l)PKCKKI{'.S    W1NTKK    Nt.ST 


SHO\VING    ITS    DEPTIf 


A       LINE       A       D    A    Y 

peanut  frozen  to  the  brick  floor  of  the  terrace.  How  lie  tugs  and 
braces  himself  on  the  slippery  surface,  almost  tumbling  over  at 
some  particularly  hearty  blow,  then  recovering  himself,  only  to  sit 
down  suddenly  as  his  feet  slip  out  from  under  him!  But  he  is  up 
and  at  it  again  fiercely,  now  piercing  the  shell,  and  at  last  succeeds 
in  taking  out  the  kernel  whole,  and  off  he  goes  to  enjoy  the  fruit  of 
his  labor. 

Feb.  9  —  To-night  we  went  out  to  see  where  the  downy  wood- 
pecker sleeps.  He  had  been  busy  excavating  holes  all  through 
December,  and  the  one  he  chose  to  finish  was  some  twelve  inches 
deep  and  about  three  inches  wide,  on  the  under  side  of  a  horizontal 
lichen-covered  rafter  in  the  roof  of  the  pergola,  close  by  the  house. 
Here  he  slept,  lying  so  flat  on  the  floor  of  his  dwelling  that  even  with 
the  aid  of  mirror  and  ladder  it  was  almost  impossible  to  see  him: 
but  a  few  soft  gray  feathers  caught  in  the  bark  at  the  entrance  to 
the  hole  betrayed  him,  and  a  gentle  poke  with  a  stick  assured  us  of 
his  presence. 

Feb.  11 — Seven  squirrels,  two  blue-jays,  four  hairy  and  a 
pair  of  downy  woodpeckers,  four  nuthatches,  six  chickadees,  and  a 
junco  looked  in  upon  us  to-day,  incidentally  helping  themselves  to 
the  chopped  suet  and  peanuts,  the  corn  and  bread  crumbs,  in  the 
out-of-door  dining-room.  The  tracks  of  the  ruffed  grouse  are 
plainly  to  be  seen  in  the  snow  around  the  ground  corn,  spread  near 
the  hooded  entrance.  Here,  too,  a  white-crowned  sparrow  has 

found  desirable  winter  quarters. 

237 


OUR        COUNTRY       H    O    M    E 

What  a  study  by  itself  is  the  flight  of  the  birds  !  How  different 
the  outspread  soaring  of  the  swallows  and  the  spasmodic  opening 
and  closing  of  the  wings  which  is  characteristic  of  the  wood- 
peckers !  And  the  bird  music !  What  a  revelation  to  me  was  the 
catbird's  varied  song!  Can  one  forget  the  first  time  the  whippoor- 
will  calls  or  the  wail  of  the  screech-owl  in  the  still  night  air  ?  How 
bewildering  is  that  wild  indistinguishable  charm  of  bird  songs  to 
the  uninitiated!  It  took  me  years  to  be  sure  of  even  the  robin's 
notes,  and  I  am  still  on  the  threshold  of  that  music  world  whose 
beauty  and  purity  touch  one's  deepest  sensibilities. 


CHAPTER  XV. 
WEEDS    FOR    DECORATION. 

I  .1RQM  the  beginning  a  certain  part  of  the  weeding  fell  to  inv 
•*-  share.  Every  one  was  so  busy  with  the  first  rough  work 
that  no  time  could  be  spared  for  uprooting  thistles.  Therefore, 
although  in  my  heart  I  really  admired  the  richly  cut  leaves  ami 
sweet  purple  blossoms,  I  conscientiously  dug  them  up  wherever 
I  found  them.  Yes,  I  dug  them  up;  but  there  was  no  embargo  on 
my  utilizing  them.  Arranged  in  high  brown  jars  along  the  barren 
north  terrace,  they  made  a  splendid  effect.  That  was  another 
discovery:  weeds  made  such  a  fine  decoration!  Once  started  in 
this  direction  the  field  was  limitless,  and  we  experimented  in  all 
sorts  of  combinations. 

Now,  it  sounds  like  a  formidable  undertaking  to  keep  seventy- 
two  acres  free  from  thistles,  but  I  soon  learned  that  they  grow  only 

239 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

in  open  spaces,  that  they  follow  civilization,  and  that  there  are 
none  at  all  in  the  real  woods.  One  finds  them  by  the  roadway, 
through  the  paths  and  hidden  in  the  shrubbery,  but  particularly 
and  always  on  the  lawn.  I  hope  that  sometime  I  may  find  a  sandy 
corner  where  I  may  let  these  really  attractive  flowers  blossom  in 
splendid  isolation.  I  must  promise,  and  I  certainly  will  fulfil  it, 
to  cut  off  each  head  before  its  light  down  scatters ;  but  think  how 
gorgeous  that  purple  mass  will  be! 

I  am  afraid  I  am  not  a  systematic  person,  after  all.  It  is  such 
joy  to  wander  out  in  the  early  morning,  fully  equipped  for  any  task 
that  may  appear,  but  not  knowing  quite  what  it  will  be.  Suddenly, 
close  by  me,  a  low  note  sounds  and  a  new  bird  rises  in  swift  flight. 
I  follow  blindly  until  I  find  myself  in  a  long  un visited  corner,  where 
the  tropical-leaved  burdock  with  its  tall  spike  of  green  and  purple 
balls  is  just  ready  to  go  to  seed.  I  dart  at  the  offending  plants, 
rise  somewhat  dishevelled  from  the  encounter,  and  wander  still 
onward  to  new  and  further  experiences  in  this  blessed  out-door  life. 

Two  more  real  weeds  I  acknowledge, —  the  hogweed,  which 
it  is  good  fun  to  pick,  the  roots  come  away  so  easily  that  in  half  an 
hour  you  can  make  a  small  haystack,  and  the  horseweed.  The 
former  is  rather  pretty  with  its  fernlike  leaf,  and  there  was 
some  hesitation  about  relegating  it  to  the  dump  heap;  but  it  set- 
tled the  question  for  itself  by  taking  possession,  not  only  of  every 
scrap  of  earth  left  bare  for  five  minutes,  but  also  of  the  planted 
spaces,  choking  everything  in  its  way.  The  second,  horseweed,  is 


FULLY  KQl.'II'l'KD  FOU  ANY  TASK 


A.  VASE  OF  WILD  CARROT 


W  E  E  D  S        F  O  R       I)  E  C  ()  R  A  T  I  ()  X 

absolutely  without  a  redeeming  quality.  It  always  seems  promis- 
ing to  do  something, —  to  be  green,  or  to  blossom,  or  to  seed ;  but 
it  only  looks  sulky  and  dissatisfied.  Its  persistence  is  worthy  of  a 
better  cause. 

At  the  plantain  I  balked;  the  little  weed-boy  must  attend  to 
that  and  to  the  long-rooted,  thick,  radish-leaved  dock,  witli  its 
high  stalk  of  rich  brown  seeds.  The  gardener  looked  dumb  with 
dismay  when  I  brought  one  to  stand  against  the  gray  plaster 
wall.  It  was  beautiful  too, —  but  now  I  share  his  feelings,  parti- 
ally at  least,  and  mercilessly  destroy  each  plant. 

How  brilliant  the  dandelion  is  in  the  early  spring!  It  carries 
the  note  of  the  yellow  forsythia  and  the  daffy-down-dilly  far  a \v ax- 
along  the  sunny  slopes,  and  it  brings  the  sunshine  to  every  one  — 
except  the  gardener,  who  scowls  and  meditates  upon  the  useful  spud 
and  the  sharp  knife  of  the  weed-boy.  As  soon  as  the  spring  bloom 
is  over  we  submit  to  the  inevitable,  the  dandelion  becomes  a  weed 
again  and  must  be  uprooted.  Well  we  know  that,  by  another 
spring,  in  some  mysterious  fashion,  our  sunny  slopes  will  once 
more  be  a  yellow  glory,  and  the  weed-boy's  occupation  will  begin 
again. 

Throughout  the  changing  seasons  we  bring  into  the  house  our 
flowering  and  fruiting  sprays  and  try  all  manner  of  combinations 
for  decoration.  Whenever  a  tree  has  to  be  cut  down,  we  take 
advantage  of  the  opportunity  and  deck  ourselves  with  the  spoils 

in  true  Indian  fashion.     That  tree  comes  into  the  house,  branch  by 

243 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

branch  and  bough  by  bough,  and  we  live  for  a  week  in  one  long 
leafy  bower  of  greenery.  Always  when  the  lindens  are  in  bloom  we 
steal  half  a  dozen  branches  from  the  bees  to  lend  their  sweetness  to 
our  indoor  life:  the  shadbush  and  wild  cherry,  the  thorn-apple  tree 
and  the  forsythia,  the  blossoming  maples  and  the  Hercules'  club, 
each  in  turn  shares  our  evenings  under  the  lamplight  and  fills  the 
rooms  with  its  fragrant  presence.  The  graceful  sprays  of  the 
blackberry  are  always  objects  of  beauty,  whether  in  flower  or 
shaded  fruit,  in  green  leaf  or  rich  autumnal  tints. 

In  our  dining-room,  too,  the  shrubs  take  turns  keeping  us  com- 
pany. The  fragrant  sumac  has  a  dainty,  yellow,  spidery  blossom 
which  combines  charmingly  with  cowslips  for  a  May  luncheon. 
Yellow  buttercups  and  violets  in  glass  receptacles  only  three  inches 
high  are  most  effective,  and  of  course  the  sprays  of  all  the  spiraeas 
arrange  themselves  in  wonderful  forms  of  beauty.  The  tiny  white 
flowers  of  the  rough  bedstraw  are  exquisite  with  the  wild  rose;  and 
the  red  stems  of  the  elder  after  the  berries  have  fallen  make  an 
extraordinary  effect  against  the  thick  white  snake-root.  Still  later 
the  rose  haws  blend  well  with  the  blue  privet  berries  and  dark  red 
leaves  of  the  aromatic  sumac;  or  the  barberries  and  privet  and 
sea-buckthorn  berries,  loosely  arranged  to  show  the  natural 
growth  of  each,  make  an  equally  effective  combination.  The 
sneezeweed,  a  proud  and  sightly  plant,  is  exquisite  with  pale 
purple  asters.  The  white  silky  cockades  of  the  groundsel  bush 
make  an  admirable  foil  for  the  scarlet  sal  via  or  the  high-bush  cran- 


WINDOW    BOX    FROM    INSIDi; 


WINDOW    BOX   FILLED   WITH   SEED-PODS 


WEEDS        FOR       DECORATION 

berries.  We  bring  in  long  sprays  of  nasturtiums  full  of  buds  just 
before  the  frost  comes,  and  for  a  month  have  fresh  blossoms  and 
new  leaves  in  the  Japanese  basket  from  which  they  climb  over  the 
mantelpiece. 

A  friend  said  to  me  in  all  seriousness  the  other  dav:    <%  Mv  little 


GHKAT    FKATHKKY    UK  A  1*5    OF    GOLDKX-ROD 

girl  has  been  asked  to  bring  to  school  as  many  different  leaves  as 
she  can.  The  heavy  frost  has  killed  all  the  flowers.  Of  course  I 
know  the  maple  and  oak  leaves,  but  aiv  tlu-iv  any  others  now? 
She  is  a  newcomer  in  our  forest  life,  but  she  will  learn,  because  she 
really  is  eager  to  know.  When  I  showed  her  from  the  window  the 
wychhazel,  the  Japanese  quince,  the  wild  cherry,  the  privet,  the 


OUR       COUNTRY       HOME 

syringa,  the  barberry,  and  some  twenty  more  varieties  of  leaves 
she  was  amazed  and  delighted. 

One  day,  it  was  the  twenty-ninth  of  November,  we  discovered 
that  our  window-boxes  looked  bare  In  fact  there  was  apparently 
nothing  in  them  but  carefully  powdered  and  well-drained  dirt.  I 
say  apparently,  for  well  we  knew  the  beauty  hidden  beneath  the 
surface  in  the  tulip  bulbs  for  early  spring  decoration;  but,  as  we 
wanted  some  beauty  at  once,  we  started  forth  to  see  what  Nature 
could  offer  us  at  this  inclement  season. 

The  Halliana  honeysuckle  was  green  in  lovely  flat  sprays  on 
the  terrace  wall,  and  the  Japanese  clematis  still  kept  some  of  it> 
feathery  fruits,  but  we  wanted  something  to  stand  up  bravely  and 
look  in  at  us  as  we  sewed  or  read  by  the  sunny  window.  The 
mountain  sumac  offered  her  bunches  of  rich  crimson  berries.  Yes; 
that  would  do  for  an  occasional  heavy  note.  The  New  England 
aster  spread  her  starry  seed-cups  to  our  admiring  gaze.  The  very 
thing!  There,  over  beyond  the  dogwoods,  was  a  waving  field  of 
great  feathery  heads  of  golden-rod.  We  must  have  an  armful  of 
them!  In  the  wild  garden,  too,  were  tall  spikes  of  the  evening 
primrose,  half-blown  milkweed  pods,  and  wild  peppermint,  brown 
and  fluted.  Just  beyond  the  formal  garden,  along  the  path  into 
the  woods,  we  found  the  curved  cups  of  the  Turk's-cap  lily,  the 
prim  flat  bunches  of  the  sedum  spectabile,  the  delicate  balls  of  the 
boltonias,  the  brown  heads  of  the  cone-flowers  large  and  small,  and 

in  the  gravel  pit  the  exquisite  white  feathers  of  the  pampas  grass. 

248 


THK  VARIETY  OF  TREE   FORMS 


THE  HALLIAX  V   HONEYSUCKLE  IN  DECEMBER 


AY  E  E  D  S       FOR       DECORATION 

Down  by  the  shore  were  curving  branches  of  sea-buckthorn  set 
thick  with  orange  berries;  nearer  the  house  grew  great  bunches 
of  privet  berries,  while  close  by  the  terrace  swung  the  graceful 
sprays  of  Indian  currant  shading  from  pale  rose  to  deep  magenta. 


THE   1XD1A.V   Ct'RRAXT 

all  begging  to  be  used.     Could  one  ask  for  greater  variety  or  for 
richer  beauty? 

With  delight  we  arranged  our  treasures  in  the  long  window- 
boxes,  judging  them  from  inside  as  well  as  outside,  filling  in  and 
rounding  out  the  delicate  grouping.  How  perfectly  their  autumn 
browns  and  grays  harmonized  with  the  velvety  surface  of  the 

rough  brown  timbers  and  gray  plaster  on  the  house!     Our  enthu- 

251 


OUR        COUNTRY        HOME 

siasm  grew  as  our  work  progressed,  and  after  the  window-boxes 
were  finished  we  looked  about  for  more  worlds  to  conquer!  On 
the  long  broken  flight  of  shallow  steps  at  the  entrance  were  four 
smaller  boxes  whose  swaying  fronds  of  fern  had  gone  the  way  of 
all  grass.  Why  should  not  these  be  filled  too  ?  No  sooner  said 
than  done!  Off  again  into  the  surrounding  woods  we  hastened, 
returning  with  more  armfuls  of  loveliness.  Each  box  when  com- 
pleted looked  more  beautiful  than  the  last,  and  we  surveyed  our 
work  with  keen  satisfaction. 

Later  on  the  rain  froze  in  wonderful  pearls  up  and  down  the 
tall  stems  and  on  the  edge  of  the  brown  leaves  and  seed  pods,  the 
sun  shone  in  millions  of  spectra  and  the  light  danced  in  rainbow 
colors  over  the  walls  of  the  living-room.  One  morning  in  January 
we  awoke  to  a  marvellous  spectacle.  A  fine,  soft,  wet  snow  had 
fallen  in  the  night,  and  every  separate  spray  in  our  window-boxes 
was  clothed  in  its  own  delicate  mantle  of  purity. 

To  a  true  Nature-lover  the  month  of  November  has  lost  its 
bleak  and  desolate  reputation  to  become  the  unfolder  of  mysteries. 
The  variety  of  tree-forms  is  incredible  to  an  ignorant  city-bred 
person,  while  the  contours  of  the  land  are  a  constant  surprise  the 
steep  hillsides  and  deep  valleys,  undisguised  by  underbrush  or 
snowy  mantle:  —  the  face  of  the  country  has  assumed  a  new  aspect. 

Does  any  one  know  the  real  beauty  of  the  sunshine  until  he  has 
seen  it  burst  through  the  heavy  dark  clouds  of  a  November  sky, 

illuminating  the  fields  of  pale  corn  stubble,  the  soft  rosy  cream  of 

252 


IHK    FEBN-BOX    KILLKO    WITH    SKKD-PODS 


A    MOHMNG    IN   JAM  AH Y 


WEEDS       FOR       DECORATION 

the  wind-blown  marsh  grasses,  the  rich  brown  of  the  oak  leaves,  and 
the  rolling  green  fields  of  winter  grain  ?  A  marble  shaft  on  yonder 
hilltop  gleams  for  an  instant,  and  the  church-spire  rises  near.  The 
sky  is  patched  with  blue,  and  the  old  gnarled  apple  trees  along  tin- 
ridge,  the  tall  elms  about  the  farmhouse  door,  the  rows  of  poplar^ 
and  maples  along  the  village  streets  stand  sharply  outlined.  A 
clump  of  willows  by  a  winding  brook  appears  and  disappears. 
There  is  a  field  of  feeding  cattle  in  the  distance  with  a  generous 
red  barn  not  far  away.  How  black  are  the  furrows  of  newly 
ploughed  earth!  How  yellow  the  seed-corn  hanging  under  the 
eaves !  The  shadows  fly  across  the  open  fields  pursued  by  the 
crows  in  flocks  and  more  and  more  the  blue  sky  widens,  the  clouds 
grow  fleecy  and  white  and  small,  the  sunshine  reflects  itself  in  tiny 
pools  and  waterways  by  sunken  fences.  Can  this  be  grim  Novem- 
ber? 


CHAPTER    XVI. 
CONCLUSION. 

T  \  7"E  have  not  sought  to  do  everything  at  once;  we  try  not  to 
be  impatient  for  results.  For  example,  it  took  us  nearly 
three  years  to  learn  a  fully  satisfactory  way  to  put  the  name  of 
the  place  at  the  entrance !  It  sounds  simple  enough,  but  —  — . 
On  the  highroad  outside  the  almost  invisible  wire  fence,  we  had 
planted  a  long  thicket  of  underbrush  from  the  woods  within,  while 
about  the  curving  stone  arms  of  the  gateway  we  put  masses  of  wild 
roses  and  bitter-sweet.  In  the  split  boulder  which  capped  the 
gate-post  we  decided  to  carve  the  name  of  the  place. 

The  Friendly  Architect  sketched  roughly  the  letters,  and  the 
stone-cutter,  who  had  had  experience  in  the  little  local  burving- 
ground,  came  from  the  village  armed  with  hammer,  drills,  and 
emery  stone,  and  began  making  round  holes  three-eighths  of  an  inch 
in  diameter,  three-fourths  of  an  inch  deep,  and  one-eighth  of  an 
inch  apart,  up  and  down  the  penciled  lines.  It  was  not  rapid  work : 
the  granite  seemed  particularly  impenetrable,  and  the  drills  would 
get  dull  after  every  few  strokes;  but  at  the  end  of  many  days  the 

holes  all  beautifully  round  were  completed. 

256 


C    0    X    C    L    U    S    I    O    X 

Our  growing  suspicions  proved  too  \vell  founded;  the  shadow, 
were  not  dense  enough,  and  the  name  was  indistinct.  The  Con- 
stant Improver  looked  at  it  critically,  and  asked,  ''Have  n't  you 
some  black  yarn  ?"  I  thought  I  was  prepared  for  any  demand, 
but  this  staggered  me  a  bit,  not  associating  wool  and  granite  gate- 


THK    (;.YTE-POST 


posts.  However,  I  managed  to  gasp,  ''  E-er,  no;  I  don't  believe  I 
have — but  we  can  buy  some."  Full  of  curiosity  and  impatient  to 
put  the  new  idea  into  practice,  we  harnessed  the  old  gray  horse 
and  drove  down  to  the  village  for  the  yarn.  On  our  return  we 
jumped  out  at  the  gate,  and  the  Constant  Improver  filled  every 
hole  with  the  black  woolly  stuff,  carrying  the  line  loosely  from  one 


O    U    11       C    O    U    N    T    11    V        II    O    M    E 

hole  to  the  next,  making  a  beautifully  soft  outline  for  the  perfectly 
clear  inscription.  We  stood  back  and  laughed  in  delight;  we 
turned  and  walked  away  for  some  distance  to  see  how  it  carried. — 
it  was  just  what  we  wanted. 

We  returned  to  the  house  in  triumph.  But  the  rain  and  the 
wind  played  havoc  with  our  work.  In  a  few  weeks  ends  of  the  yarn 
were  waving  in  the  breeze  and  a  dilapidated  and  out-at-elbow 
announcement  greeted  the  passer-by, —  it  looked  as  if  the  gatepost 
were  ravelling.  Why  would  n't  black  paint,  following  closely  in 
the  lines  of  the  wool,  produce  the  same  effect  ?  The  Constant 
Improver  watched  as  the  gardener  cautiously  experimented.  Yes ; 
it  was  good.  The  letters  stood  clearly  forth  in  soft  velvety  outline. 
We  congratulated  one  another,  for  this  had  been  on  our  minds  for 
many  moons,  and  now  the  Constant  Improver  could  turn  his  active 
intellect  to  other  problems. 

Was  there  not  the  small  greenhouse  to  build  ?  Why  should  n't 
its  sides,  too,  be  of  the  rough-hewn  timbers,  and  the  potting  sheds 
at  the  ends  have  the  mossy  roof  of  the  woodshed  ?  Even  the  sash 
which  held  the  glass  was  to  be  painted  brown,  an  unheard  of  in- 
novation in  greenhouse  construction.  Instead  of  an  ugly  chimney, 
a  good  terra-cotta  chimney-pot  was  selected  and  carefully  brought 
out  "  by  hand  "  from  the  city.  Only  the  martin-house  sent  us  by  a 
friend  stood  white  and  uncompromising  in  the  midst  of  all  these 
blending  tones.  To  be  sure,  the  martins  had  not  yet  found  it. 
After  two  years  the  Constant  Improver  could  endure  it  no  longer, 


TIIK   GREENHOUSE 


THE   LEAF-CART 


o   \  c  L  r  s  i  o 

and  it  too  was  stained  a  lovely  soft  brown.  I  cannot  *»eH  that 
this  will  entice  these  particular  birds,  hut  it  certainly  satisfies  the 
artistic  sense  of  those  most  concerned. 

I  have  heard  it  said  that  if  you  ,,ut  into  your  country  place 
every  penny  you  can  spare,  vou  are  a  horticulturist;  I,,,,  if  V(MI 
make  it  pay  you  attain  to  the  dimity  of  .,  farmer.  There  may  be 
differences  of  opinion  about  the  form  of  -pay."  I  am  afraid  uv 
resemble  the  countryman  who  was  asked  by  his  friend: 

"  Why  did  ye  set  out  all  them  catalpa  trees  ?  They  won't  pa v 
nothinV 

"Why,  neighbor;'  he  replied,  "  I  git  mv  money  back  every  day 
a-lookin'  on  'em.  " 

So  we  take  the  utmost  satisfaction  in  just  "  lookin'  on"  our 
weeds  and  wild  flowers,  our  shrubs  and  forest  tree-,. 

It  does  not  seem  possible  that  one  can  hear  in  the  early  spring- 
time the  ho;ik-hi)nk  of  the  wild  geese  and  watch  their  curious 
V-shaped  flight  without  a  longing  to  follow  them  into  the  wild,  to 
feel  the  sweet-smelling  earth  under  one's  feet  again,  and  to  watch 
the  awakening  of  all  living  things  from  their  wintrv  dreams. 

"Yes,"  some  practical  soul  may  perhaps  say,  "that  is  all  vcrv 
beguiling  if  we  only  lived  like  the  birds,  carrying  our  belongi?igs 
on  our  backs  and  finding  a  shelter  wherever  we  chose  to  stop.  " 
Truly,  I  think  the  talk  about  the  care  of  a  country  house  is  exag- 
gerated. Care  is,  after  all,  entirely  a  matter  of  the  individual. 
Our  grandmothers  would  doubtless  have  spent  davs  in  covering 


OUR       COUNTRY        HOME 

up  the  furniture  and  putting  away  the  bric-a-brac  when  leaving, 
which  would  entail  even  more  work  in  readjusting  and  uncovering 
and  vigorous  cleaning  in  the  springtime.  In  the  early  days  I 
acknowledge  that  I  thought  this  was  the  only  way  to  be  a  good 
housekeeper ! 

But  the  Constant  Improver  is  not  so  named  for  naught. 
''The  important  thing,"  he  said,  "is  to  have  furnishings  simple 
enough  so  that  the  house  may  be  closed  by  turning  the  key,  then  it 
is  ready  for  the  week-end  visit  at  any  time  of  the  year.  "  After  he 
had  once  persuaded  me  to  try  his  easy  method,  moving  lost  all  its 
terrors. 

People  who  have  never  attempted  it,  often  have  the  belief  that 
it  is  easier  to  keep  house  in  the  city  than  in  the  country,  that  one 
is  nearer  the  source  of  supplies,  and  that  things  in  general  are  more 
convenient  in  the  city.  I  wish  to  assert  the  contrary.  With  proper 
system  and  a  little  forethought  at  the  beginning  of  the  season,  the 
house  really  keeps  itself,  and  there  is  not  that  constant  battle  with 
dust  and  soot  which  makes  the  housekeeper's  life  in  the  city  a  daily 
martyrdom.  It  is  easy  also  to  arouse  in  the  household  a  spirit  of 
interest  in  the  country  life  out-doors.  One  little  maid,  newly  come, 
was  so  impressed  with  the  knowledge  of  the  Constant  Improver, 
that,  pointing  to  our  collection  of  last  year's  birds'  nests,  she  asked 
if  he  had  made  them  and  put  them  out  for  the  birds  to  use!  Later 
on,  I  discovered  one  day  in  the  out-of-door  dining-room  that  the 
dry  crusts  of  bread  thrown  out  to  the  birds  had  been  carefully  soaked 


BRINGING    IN    BRANCHES 


THE  MANCHURIAN   CHERRY 


CONCLUSION 


in  milk  and  a  dish  of  cherries  thoughtfully  stoned,  —  - ''  For  tin- 
birds  have  n't  any  teeth,  they  tell  me!" 

Always  there  is  a  pleasure  in  the  beauty  of  the  woods  and  a 
desire  to  know  the  names  of  the  flowers  brought  in.  Nothing  is 
too  much  trouble  if  the  result  be  satisfactory,  and  I  have  known 
my  maids  to  scour  the  woods  for  hours  in  search  of  some  precious 
branch  and  to  get  up  at  dawn  to  cut  the  flowers  with  the  dew  still 
on  them.  From  the  beginning  we  have  been  assisted  in  the  accom- 
plishment of  our  cherished  plans  by  the  hearty  cooperation  and 
real  sympathy  of  our  well-trained  English  gardener,  who  has  be- 
come as  enthusiastic  as  ourselves  over  the  preservation  of  all  our 
wildness.  He  has  developed  a  genius  for  imitating  Nature,  taking 
careful  photographs  of  desirable  bits  of  scenery  with  the  object  of 
reproducing  them  on  our  own  small  estate.  He  is  tireless  in  his 
quest  for  wild  flowers  and  will  explore  the  country  for  miles  around 
in  search  of  roots.  A  modest,  self-contained  man  with  unusual 
executive  ability,  he  is  an  apostle  of  Nature  among  his  fellow- 
gardeners  and  writes  papers  for  the  State  Horticultural  Society 
advocating  his  purpose. 

In  America  life  is  more  interesting  because  we  are  young: 
we  are  the  ancestors,  so  to  speak,  of  a  nation:  we  are  establishing 
universities  and  museums;  erecting  monumental  buildings  of  all 
sorts:  and  at  last  we  have  reached  that  desirable  point  in  our  civili- 
zation when  country  life  reveals  its  charms  to  us.  In  various  parN 
of  our  own  land  we  are  making  beautiful  homes,  experimenting  in 

966 


OUR       COUNTRY       HO    M    E 

farm  lands,  even  planting  forests;  as  a  people  we  are  just  learning 
the  delights  of  real  life.  When  we  think  of  the  vast  treeless  tracts 
in  Michigan  and  Minnesota  swept  by  fire  or  by  the  ruthless  hand 
of  civilized  man.  we  must  be  grateful  for  this  new  spirit  of  upbuild- 
ing, of  patient  labor  for  the  benefit  of  future  generations.  In  the 
government  reserves  in  both  Germany  and  France,  how  pleasing 
it  is  to  see  the  tiny  spruces  and  pines,  whole  acres  of  them,  perhaps 
a  foot  high,  to  be  left  alone  for  a  sufficient  time  to  attain  their  per- 
fect growth.  This  takes,  I  believe,  about  twenty-five  years.  But 
has  not  our  government  evolved  a  much  more  beautiful  system  of 
forestry  ?  Here  all  the  trees  of  a  certain  regulated  size  may  be  cut 
down  each  year,  yet  the  stately  forest  in  all  its  growing  comeliness 
is  carefully  preserved. 

One  comforting  thought  to  that  mass  of  people  who  have  always 
lived  in  the  city  is,  that  they  will  enjoy  each  phase  of  country  life 
much  more  than  the  old  rural  inhabitants.  It  was  predicted  that 
probably  the  charm  lay  for  us  too  in  the  novelty  of  the  experience, 
—  and  of  course  that  could  not  last;  but  we  find  a  continued  nov- 
elty, and  after  five  years  our  interest,  instead  of  diminishing,  has 

increased  little  bv  little  until  it  fills  our  lives  with  its  intensitv  and 
^ 

we  see  stretching  before  us  long  years  of  glad  accomplishment. 

It  is  fortunate  that  none  of  us  wishes  to  profit  by  the  example 
of  his  fellow  man ;  half  the  joy  of  living  is  learning  by  experience. 
Another  cheering  circumstance  is  that  few  of  us  have  marvellous 
memories;  so  we  luckily  forget,  and  each  year  must  learn  again, 


CONCLUSI    0    X 


something,  if  it  be  only  the  names  of  the  birds  and  the  flowers  and 
the  plants.  By  looking  over  one's  own  list  each  Spring,  renewing 
the  acquaintance  as  it  were,  soon  the  old  familiarity  returns.  But  it 
is  the  doing,  after  all,  which  gives  the  most  pleasure!  The  tiny  oak 
that  I  raised  from  the  acorn  and  after  two  years  planted  in  an  open 
space  where  some  day  it  will  extend  its  branches  over  every  passer- 
by,—  suppose  at  present  it  /.v  only  ten  inches  high  and  I  can  count 
its  eight  or  ten  leaves!  And  the  young  Manchurian  bird-cherry 
which  looks  like  a  man's  walking-stick  thrust  in  the  ground, —  do 
I  not  see  in  imagination  its  luscious  fruit  on  spreading  boughs  filled 
with  song  birds  grateful  for  their  feast  ?  That  horse-chestnut  sap- 
ling which  we  rescued  from  a  tangle  of  grapevine  and  willow  and 
gave  breathing  space  in  the  open,  —  do  not  its  leaves  turn  a  deeper 
red  and  its  bursting  buds  give  us  a  keener  joy  for  all  our  care  ?  Do 
the  long  years  of  waiting  oppress  me?  I  have  no  time  for  that: 
each  day  brings  so  much  of  present  interest  that  the  hours  s< cm 
overflowing.  The  dividing  line  between  work  and  play  has  been 
eliminated:  the  daily  task  has  become  the  daily  joy!  And  it  is 
astonishing  what  can  be  done  in  one  lifetime  with  energies  properly 
directed.  The  beautiful  Hunnewcl!  estate  at  Wellesley,  Massa- 
chusetts, with  its  huge  forest  trees,  its  elaborate  and  ancient-looking 
Italian  garden,  its  wonderful  flowering  shrubs,  was  within  the 
memory  of  men  now  living  a  barren  field  covered  with  stones. 
An  Enthusiast  is  never  wholly  satisfied  until  she  has  persuaded 

some  one  else  to  go  and  do  likewise.     Her  happiness  is  such  that 

269 


OUR       COUNT    R    V        H    O    M    E 

it  seems  selfish  not  to  share  it.  All  through  our  Badger  State  are 
hidden  small  lakes  surrounded  by  virgin  forests,  where  the  weeds 
and  the  wild  flowers  are  only  waiting  to  be  appreciated.  Here  each 

#• 

season  has  its  own  particular  beauty,  arid  each  day  a  separate 
charm.  For  joyful  recreation,  for  healthful  exercise,  for  novel 
experiences,  for  the  development  of  individuality,  the  possibilities 
of  the  woodland  home  are  infinite. 


LIST  OF  PLANTS,   SHRUBS.   AM)  TRKKS 


LIST  OF  PLANTS,  SHRUBS,  AND  TREES 


(This  nomenclature  follows  "  An  Illustrated  Flora  of  the  United  States. 
Canada,  and  the  British  Possessions,"  by  Xathaniel  Lord  Brilton  and 
Addison  Brown,  1896.) 


Ageratum,  Garden, 

Ayerafum,  me.rieanum. 
Acrimony, 

Agrimonia. 
Anemone,  Japanese, 

Anemone  japonica. 
Anise, 

Pimpinella  anisum. 
Apple, 

Utdiu  mains. 
Apple.  Japanese  Crab-, 

Mains  specfabilis. 
Apple,  Western  Crab-. 

afahit  iuenxix. 
Apple,  Wild  Crab-, 

Media  angiutifoKa. 
Arbutus.  Trailing. 

l-'./>igira  repciix. 

Arrow-wood, 

I'ihitrnum  dentatum. 
Arrow-wood,  Downy- 
leaved, 
1'iburn um  pubetotRt. 

Artichoke,  French, 
( 'i/nara  tcob/mut. 

Artichoke.  Jerusalem. 
Hdianth  us  tuberosns. 

Asparagus, 

Asparagus  officinal  ix. 

Aster,     Common     Blue 

Wood, 

Aster  cordifolius. 
Aster.  Late  Purple, 

Aster  patens. 
Aster.    Ne\\    England. 

Aster  Xonr-AnglitF. 
Aster,  Sky-blue. 

Aster  azureus. 
Aster.  Smooth, 

Aster  lerris. 
Aster,  Wavy-leafed, 

Aster  unditltitu.f. 
Astilbe.  Japanese, 

Axtilhe  japonica. 


Azalea, 

Azalea. 

Haliy's-breath, 

Gi/pxopli  iln  pun  inilata. 
Halm,  Ijemon. 

Melissa  ofticinalis. 
Balaam-apple,  Wild, 

M  icra  m  peli.t  lohata . 
Baoebeny,  Red, 

Aff(Fa  ruhru. 
Bane!>errv,  White. 

At-fira  alba. 
Barl)erry.  Japanese. 

Herbert*  j 
Ha  il.  Sweet, 

(him ii in  basil irn m. 
Bajbeny, 

afyriea 
Bean, 

Pkateohu  rulgarix. 
Bean.  Lima, 

Phased  its  lunatus. 
Be;m,  Wild. 

Phaseolu.*  polyttachyiu. 

Bed-tra\v.  Rough, 
daliitm  nxpri'llitin. 

Beech-drops.  False 
Mouotropi  h>/popiti/x. 

B(M-t. 

Beta  ruhjnrift. 
Begonia.  Tuberous, 

Begonia  fuherosa. 
Bellfiower,  Chinese, 

Pliiti/coilim        grandi- 

florunt. 
Bellflower,  Pyramidal. 

( 'ain/xinula  />i/ramidalis. 
Bellflower.  Tall, 

( '/in/piinula  americana. 
Belhvort,  Large-flowered, 

i'rnlariti  grandi flora. 
Bergamot.  Wild, 

.}Ionarda  fistulosa. 

273 


Bitidwe*-*!,  Hedge. 

(  'on  roli-ttlux  ne  pin  in. 
Hitter-sweet, 

(  'flaxtru.*  xraittlriix. 
Hlackherry.  High-bush. 

llnbns  I'H/o.iiix. 
Blackberry,  lyo 

/I'M'»//.V  eaaadtunt. 

Bl  i"k-  -ved  Susan. 

liii'lbei'kin  hirta. 
I{|  iddcr-niit. 

Sf  a  phi/lea  trifulia. 
Bl  \xing-star, 

Liairi.t  pytnodachya. 
Bleeding-Mart, 

Direnfra  xpertuhilix. 
Bloodroot, 

>'  iin/ninaria     canailcn- 

ti§. 

Blueberry, 

I  'ai-dn  ium  eorymbonun. 
Boneact, 

Eupatorium  perfd,M- 

tuin. 
Bouncing  Bet. 

Saponaria  offic-ntilix. 
Box. 


Brake. 

Pteris  ai/uilina. 
Bridal  Wreath. 

S  pirn  a  run  llonttei. 
BucKthorn. 

liliainn  us  cathartira. 
Buckthorn,  Sea, 

Ilip/xiphae  rfiainnoides. 
Buckwheat.  Climbing 

False, 

Polygon  u  m  duiiitturuin. 

var.  xi-tindriix. 
Burdock,  (ireat. 
.iri-tium  Lappti. 

Butter-and-egos, 

Linnria  rnlgaris. 


LIST   OF   PLANTS,   SHRUBS,  AND   TREES 


Buttercup, 

Cinq  uef  oil, 

Dahlia, 

Ranunculus. 

Potentilla  canadensis. 

Dahlia  variabilis. 

Butterfly-weed, 

Clematis,  Jackmann's, 

Dandelion, 

Afdepitu  tuberosa. 

Clematis  Jackmanni. 

Taraxacum  taraxacum. 

Butternut, 

Clematis,  Japanese, 

Dock,  Radish-leaved, 

Jiiglans  cinerea. 

Clematis  panLulata. 

Rume.r  crispus. 

Button-hush, 

Clover,  Red, 

Dodder, 

Cephalanthusoccidentalis. 

Trifolium  pratense. 

Cuscuta  gronovii. 

Cobrea  Vine. 

Dogbane, 

Cactus. 

Cobcea  scandens. 

4.pocynum    androsaemi- 

Opuntia  fragile. 

Cohosh,  Blue, 

folium. 

Campion,  Starry, 

Caulophyllum       thalic- 

Dogwood,       Alternate- 

Silene  stellata. 

troides. 

leaved, 

Canterlmry  Bells, 

Columbine,  Wild, 

Cornus  alternifolia. 

Campanula  medium. 

Aquilegia  canadensis. 

Dogwood,  Panicled, 

(  'araway, 

Cone-flower,  Newman's, 

Cornus  paniculata. 

Carum  carui. 

Rudbeckia  Newmani. 

Dogwood,  Red  Osier, 

Cardinal-flower, 

Cone-flower,  Sweet, 

Cornus  stolonifera. 

Lobelia  cardinalis. 

Rudbeckia       sublomen- 

Dogwood,  Red-stemmed, 

Cardinal-flower,  Blue, 

tosa. 

Cornus  sibirica. 

Ijobel  ia  syph  ilitica  . 

Cone-flower,  Thin-leaved, 

Dogw'ood,  Round-leaved, 

Carnation,  see  Pink. 

Rudbeckia  triloba. 

Cornuy  circinata. 

Carrot, 

Coprinus,  Inky, 

Dogwood,  Silky,  or  Kinni- 

Daucus  carota. 

Coprinus  atramentarius. 

kinnik, 

Catalpa, 

Coral-root,  Small- 

Cornus  amonum. 

Cafalpa  catalpa. 
Catnip,  or  Catmint. 
Nepeta  calaria. 
Cauliflower, 
Brassica    oleracea,  var. 
boirytis. 
Cedar,  White, 
Thuja  occidentalis. 
Celery, 
Apium  graveolens  dulce. 
Chamomile, 
Anthemis  tinctoria. 
Chamomile,  False, 
Boltonia  asteroides. 

flowered, 
Corattorhiza    odonto- 
rhiza. 
Coreopsis,  Lance-leaved, 
Coreopsis  lanceolata. 
Cow-parsnip, 
Heradeum  lanatum. 
Cranberry,  High-bush, 
Viburnum  opulus. 
Cucumber, 
Cucumis  sativus. 
Currant,  Black, 
Ribes  americanum. 
Currant,  Indian,  or  Coral- 

Egg  Plant, 
Solanum  melongena. 
Eglantine,  or  Sweet  Brier, 
Rosa  rubiginosa. 
Elder,   American,   or  El- 
derberry, 
Samhucus  canadensis. 
Elder,  Red-berried, 
Sambucus  pubens. 
Elm,  American, 
Ulmus  americana. 
Elm,  Slippery, 
Ulmus  fulva. 

Chard,  Swiss, 

berry, 

Fern,  Boston, 

Beta  vulgaris  alba. 

Symphoricarpus       vul- 

Xephrolepis  exaliata 

Cherry, 

garis. 

bostoniensis. 

Prunus  cerasus. 

Currant,  Missouri, 

Fern,  Maiden-hair, 

Cherry,  Choke, 

Ribes  aureum. 

Adiantum  pedatum. 

Prunvs  virginiana. 

Currant,  Red, 

Fern,  Sweet, 

Cherry,  Western  Sand, 

Ribes  rubrum. 

Comptonia  peregrina. 

Prunus  besseyi. 

Currant,  White, 

Fetter-bush,  Mountain, 

Cherry,  Western  Wild, 

Ribes  rubrum,  var.  al- 

Andromeda floribunda. 

Prunus  demissa. 

bum. 

Figwort,  Hare, 

Cherry,  Wild  Black, 

Scrophularia  lepardla. 

Prunus  serotina. 

Daffy-down-dilly, 

Figwort,  Maryland, 

Cliickweed, 

Narcissus  pseudo- 

Scrophularia  maryland- 

Alsine  media. 

narcissus. 

ica. 

274 


LIST   OF   PLANTS,   SHRUBS,  AM)  TREES 


Fleur-de-lis, 
Iris  yermanica,  etc. 

Hardhack,or  Steeplebush, 
iS'pircpa  tomentosa. 

Iris,  Sil^erian, 
Irix  vihirica. 

Forsythia,  Hanging, 

Harebell, 

Iris,  Spanish, 

Forsyth  ia  .S-H.V/WH.W. 
Forsyt  h  ia  ,  I  ntermed  iate, 

(  'a  in  pan  ula  rotuntlifolia. 
Haw.  Hawthorn, 

Iris  il>erica. 
Iris,  Yellow, 

Forsythia  intermedia. 
Foxglove,  Downy  False, 

Cnitaeg  >is  o.vuaca  nth  a. 
Heliotrope, 

/r/.v  pmJaearut. 

Iron  W(MK!, 

Dasystoma  flava. 

fleliotropiiim. 

Ostrya  virginiana. 

Foxglove,   Fern-leaved, 

Hercules'  Club, 

False, 

Aralia  spinosa. 

Jack-in-the-|)iilpit,  or   In- 

Dasystoma pedicularia. 

Hickory, 

dian  turnip. 

Hieoria. 

Arixtrwii  trip/ii/lliiin. 

Hobble-bush, 

Jasmine,  or  Jr^ainiiir. 

Gentian,  Closed, 

}'iburnum  alnifolium. 

Jaxm  inum  o/fichi  <,!,•. 

Gentiana  Andreu-sii. 

Hog^veed, 

Jewel-weed, 

Gentian,  Fringed, 

A  mhrosia    artem  ixia-- 

Impatient  In  flora. 

Gentiana  crinifa. 

folia. 

J(K'-Pye  Wctil.  or  Purple 

Gentian.  Horse, 

Hollyhock, 

Thorough  wort. 

Trioxteum  perfoliatum  . 
Geranium,  Cultivated, 

Atthen  rosea. 
Honeysuckle,  Albert's, 

Hnpatorium  purpnri-um. 
Joii<|iiil, 

Pelaryonium. 

Lon  icera  alhcrti. 

\arcijntns  jam/  u  ilia  . 

Geranium,  Hose. 

Honeysuckle.  Hush. 

Jumper, 

Pelaryonium  capitatum. 

DiarmOa  tlicrrilln. 

./unifM-rus  communis. 

Geranium,  Wild. 
Geranium  maciilatuin. 

Honeysuckle,    Smooth- 

Icaved, 

Knotwcctl,  Japanc-f. 
l'<>/i/(/(>iiiti>i  Sicboldi 

Ginseng. 

Lonicpra  dioica. 

Kohlrabi 

Pana.v  quinquefolium. 
Goat's-beard, 

Honeysuckle,     Sweet- 
scented, 

lira.wu-a  caitlo-rapa. 
Kud/u  Vine, 

Aruncus  arunciu>. 
Golden  Glow. 

Loniccra  halliana. 
Honeysuckle,     Tartarian. 

Pueraria  Tk/tmbtrgiana 

Rudbeckia  lacin  iata. 

Hush. 

Ladies'-slipper,  Pink, 

var.  G.  G. 

Lonicera  tntarica. 

(  'yprifM-diuin  .ipertahiif. 

Golden-rod, 

Horse  Gentian. 

Ladies'-sli|)|x>r,  Yellow, 

Solidayo. 

Triosteum  perffh  iatu  in  . 

Cmripeamm  pubescens. 

(iooset>erry. 

Horse-radish, 

l,;nly's-tnumb, 

Kibes  uva-crispa. 

Xtifitiirtiuni  armoracea. 

Polyyonum    persicaria. 

Gooseberry,  Wild, 

Horse-  weed. 

Larksj)ur. 

Kites  nncile. 

Leptilon  ranadense. 

l)t  I  /minium. 

Grape,  Niagara, 

Hyacinth,  Giant  Summer. 

Larkspur,  Chinese, 

I'iV/.v  cordifolia. 

Galtonia  candicanx. 

Di  1  /illinium  chincnse. 

Grape,  Northern  Fox, 

Hydrangea,  Wild, 

Laurel,  American, 

Vitis  labrusca. 

Hydrangea  arborescent. 

Kalinin  latifolia. 

Grass,  Eulalia. 

I^a  vender, 

Eulalia  gracillina. 

Indian-pipe, 

Ltnrnd  ula  vera. 

Grass,  Plume, 

Motwtropa  uni  flora. 

I-^ek,  Wil.l. 

Erianthiui  Ravenna  . 

Indigo,  Blue  Wild. 

Allium  tricoccum. 

Grass,  Ribbon, 

Baptisia  au-stralis. 

Leopard's  Bane, 

Phalaris    arundiacea 

Iris,  English, 

Doronicum     plantagin- 

picta. 

Iris  xiphoides. 

fum,  var.  excdsum. 

Groundnut, 

Iris,  German, 

Lettuce,  Blue, 

Apios  tuberosa. 

Iris  yermanica. 

Lactuca  pulchtlla. 

Groundsel-bush. 

Iris,  Japanese, 

Lettuce,  Garden, 

Baccharis  halimifolia. 

Iris  uevigata. 

Lactuca  sativa. 

275 


LIST   OF   PLANTS,   SHRUBS,  AND  TREES 


lettuce,  Red  Wood, 

Mallow, 

Nasturtium, 

Lactuca  hirsuta. 

Malva  sylrestri-s. 

Tropceoltts  mujus. 

Lettuce,  Tall  White, 

Mandrake,  Wild, 

Nicotine, 

Nabalux  altissimus. 

Podophyllum  pelf  at  urn. 

Nicotiana  noctiflora. 

Lettuce,  White, 

Maple, 

Oalr 

X  abacus  albus. 

Acer. 

V-/«ti, 

Lettuce,  Wild, 
Lactuca  canadensis. 
Leucothoe,  Catesby's, 
Leucothoe  catesbcei. 
Lilac,  Common, 
Syringa  rulgaris. 
Lilac,  Persian, 

Marigold, 
Lagetes. 
Marigold,  Bur, 
Bidens  Icevis. 
Marigold,  Marsh, 
Caltha  palustris. 
Marjoram,  Sweet, 

Quercus. 
Obedient  Plant, 
Physostegia  virgin  ian  n  . 
Okra,  or  Gumbo, 
Hibiscus  cesculentus. 
Olive,  Wild, 
Eleagnus  angustifdia. 

Syringa  persica. 
Lily.  Asa  Gray's, 
Lilium  grayi. 
Lily,    Japanese    Gold- 
banded, 
Liliwn  auratum. 
Lily,  Madonna. 
Lilium  candidunt. 

Origanum  marjorana. 
Marrow,  Vegetable, 
Cucurbita  pepo. 
M;ir>h-mallow, 
Althaea  ofjicinalis. 
Matrimony  Vine, 
Lycium  vulgare. 
Meadow  Rue. 

AUium  cepa. 
Orchid,  Showy, 
Orchis  spectabttia. 

Osmanthus,  Holly-leaved, 
Osmantli  us  aqnifolium. 
Ox-eye,  Rough, 
Heliopsi-s  scabra. 

Lily,  Midnight, 
Lilium  elegans. 

Thalictrum. 
Meadow-sweet,    Thun- 

Paint-brush, 

Hypericum  prolificum. 

T)     1 

Lilv   Pink 

berg's, 

1  aim, 

1  <!!_*  .    J.  1  1  1  r\  . 

Lilium    speciosum    ru- 
oruiti 

Spiraea  Thunbergiana. 
Meadow-sweet.     Van 

Latania  borbonica. 
Parsley. 

Lily,  Showy  \Vhite, 
Lilium  speciosiirn  album. 
Lily,  Tiger, 
Lilium  tiqrinum. 
Lily,  Turk's  Cap, 
Lilium  superbum. 

Boutte'fi, 

Spiraea  ran  houttei. 
Milkweed,  Tall, 
Asclepias  exaltata. 
Milkwort, 
Poly  gala. 
Mock  Orange. 

Petrosalinu?n  satii-um. 
Parsnip, 
Pastinaca  rcpens. 
Partridge-berry, 
Mitchftta  re  pens. 
Pea,  Garden. 
Pisum  sat  i  vu  m. 

Lily,  Wood, 
Lit  in  m  ph  iladelph  icu  m  . 
Lily,  Yellow  Day, 
Hemerocallis  flava. 
Lily,  Yellow  Meadow. 

Ph  iladelph  us       cor  on  a  - 
riiift. 
Moonseed, 
Menixpermum        cana- 
dense. 

Pea,  Sweet, 
Lathi/rux  odoratiift. 
Peanut',  Wild. 
Falcata  comosa. 
Pecan 

Lilium  canadense. 

Morel, 

Ilicona  pecan. 

Linden, 

Morchella  deliciosa. 

Peony, 

Tilia  americana. 

Morning-glory,  Wild  Pink, 

Pceonia. 

Liver-leaf, 

Ipomea  purpurea. 

Pepper,  Red, 

Hepatica  triloba. 

Mullein, 

Capsicum  annuum. 

liverwort, 

Verbascum. 

Peppermint, 

Hepatica  triloba. 

Mushroom,  Field, 

itenfka  piperita. 

Lobelia, 

Agaricu-v  campestris. 

Petunia, 

Lobelia. 

Muskmelon, 

Petunia. 

Locust  Tree, 

Cucumis  mdo. 

Phlox,  Garden, 

Robinia  pseudacacia. 

Phlox  paniculata. 

Loosestrife,  Spiked, 

Nannyberry. 

Pie  plant,  or  Rhubarb, 

Lythrum  salicaria. 

Viburnum  lentago. 

Rheum  rkaptmtieim. 

Tx>osestrife,  Yellow, 

Narcissus,  Poet's, 

Pine,  Chile, 

Lysimnchia  Fraseri.               Narcissus  poeticus. 

Araucaria  umbricuta. 

276 

LIST   OF   PLANTS,   SHRUBS,  AND  TREES 


Pine,  Dwarf, 

Rhododendron, 

Shin-leaf, 

Pinux  iiiuyhux. 

Rhododendron. 

I'lfrala  illi/itica. 

Pine,  While, 

Hose,  Dog, 

Smaitweed, 

P  in  i/.s  .ilrobus. 

Rosa  ran  inn. 

I'oli/i/imiun  pfttiixi/lrnii- 

Pink,  Chinese, 

Rose,  Low  Pasture, 

irltin. 

Dianthns  sinenttis. 

Rosa  hum  His. 

Snakcroot.  White, 

Plantain,  Common, 

Rose,  Meadow, 

Euputoritim  mjcmtnidi  .-. 

Plantago  major. 

Rosa  blnnila. 

Snapdragon, 

Plantain,  Rattlesnake, 

Rose,  Prairie, 

Antirrhinum 

P(  ram  inm  pnbescenx. 

Rosa  setigera. 

Sneexeweed, 

Plantain,  Robin's, 

Rose,  Swamp, 

I  lilt  ninm  autnmnnli  . 

Eritjcron  bcllidifolius. 

Rosa  Carolina. 

Snee/cwdrt.  Pearl, 

Plum, 

Rose,  Wrinkled-leaf. 

Ai-hillt'ii  [ilar  in  iru. 

Prunus  domestica. 

Rosn  rityoxa. 

Snowball,  ,Ia|>ar 

Poison-ivy, 

Rose-mallow. 

Viburnum  plii-utum. 

Rhiis  radicans. 

Hibiscus  moschetif<>.<;. 

Soowbeny, 

Poplar, 

Rose-mallow,  Chinese, 

Syatphonearptu  race- 

Popvhu  tremuloides. 

Hibiscus  sinensis. 

motrua. 

Poppy,  Oriental, 

Runner,  S<-arlet, 

Solomon's  Seal,  Giant,  or 

Pa  /Hirer  somniferum. 

Phaseolus  m  ultiftorux. 

Smooth, 

Poppy,  Plumed, 

Bocconin  cor/lata. 

Sabbatia, 

PolygoiKitiim  yiganieuw 
Solomon's  Seal,  Hairy. 

Primrose,  Evening. 
(E  n  oth  era  b  ien  n  in  . 

Sabbatia. 
Sage,  Blue, 

Polygonatum  biflorum, 
Solomon's  Seal,  Star- 

Privet, 

Salvia  azurea. 

flowered, 

Ligustrum  medium. 

Sage,  Garden, 

Vagnera  stellata. 

Privet, 

Salvia  officinalis. 

Sorrel,  Sheep, 

Ligustru  i»  regelian  u  m  . 

Sage,  Mexican  Garden. 

llumi:i-  acetoseUa. 

Puccoon,  Hairy. 
Lilhoxpermum  ymclini. 
Pyrethrum, 
Pyrethrum. 

Salvia  patens. 
Salsify,  or  Oyster  Plant. 
Tragojxxjon  porrijolittx. 
Salvia,  White, 

Spearmint, 

Mfnlhn  xpicata. 
Spiderwort,  Blue, 
Tradescantia  virgini- 

Quince,  Japanese, 
Cydonia  japonica. 

Salvia  argcntrti. 
Sanicle,  White, 
Eupatorium  ageraioides. 

ana 

Spikenard.  American. 
Aralia  racemosa. 

Radish. 
Rhaphanus  sativus. 

Sanvitalia     (procumbent), 
kin  to  Rudbeckia  and 

S|>ikcnanl,  Wild. 
Vagnera  racemosa. 

Rampion, 
Cam/Kin  ula  rapwicvlua 
Raspberry,  Black, 
Rubus  occidenialis. 

Zinnia  . 
Sarsaparilla,  Wild, 
Aralia  nudicauii*. 
Savory,  Summer, 

Spinach, 
Spinacia  oleracea. 
Spindle-tree,    NVide- 

Raspberry,     Purple- 
flowering, 
Rubus  odoralwt. 
Raspberry,  Red, 
Rubus  strigosus. 
Reed,  Donax, 
Aritndo  donax. 
Reed,  Plumed  Ravenna, 
Erianthus  ravennte. 
Resin  Plant, 
SUphium  terebinth  inar 
eum. 

Satoreia  liortensis. 
Scarlet  Lightning, 
Lychnis  chalcedonica. 
Self-heal, 
Prunella  vulgaris. 
Senna,  Wild,  or  American 
Cassia,  marulandica. 
Shaggy-mane,   or  Manec 
Agaric, 
Coprinus  comatus. 
Shield-fern,  Fragrant, 
Dryopteris  fragrans. 

stemmed, 
Euonymus  alatus. 
Spring  Beauty, 
Claytonia  virginica. 
Sprouts,  Brussels, 
Brassica. 
Spruce,  White, 
Picea  canadensis. 
Spurge,  Flowering, 
Euphorbia.  coroUata. 
Spurge,  Ridge-seeded, 
Euphorbia  glyptosperma 

277 


LIST   OF  PLANTS,   SHRUBS,  AND  TREP:S 


Squash, 

Tarragon, 

Violet,  Striped, 

Cucnrbila  maxima. 

Artemisia  dran  unndus 

Viola  xfnat'i. 

Squaw-root, 

Tea,  New  Jersey, 

Virginia-creeper,  mis- 

Conoplwlis (imericana. 

(  'eanoth  u-s    amcricanus. 

called  Wootlbine, 

Star-cucumber, 

Tea,  Oswego, 

Parthenoeitnu  </uin<]iie- 

Sicyos  angniatus. 

Monurdn  rlidyiiia. 

foiia,  or  Ampelopsis 

Star-flower,  see  Aster. 

Thimble-weed, 

quinquefolia. 

Star-of-  Bethlehem, 

Anemone  Virginia. 

Virgin's  Bower, 

Ornothogalum  umbella- 

Thistle  Family, 

Clematis  rirginiana. 

tum. 

Compotitce. 

Stonecrop,  Showy, 

Thornapple  Tree, 

Wake-robin,     Great- 

Seduin  sin-Habile. 

Cratcerjus  crus-galli. 

flowered, 

Strawberry,  (  'onimon, 
Fragana  trwa. 

Tomato, 
Jjycopertiecn      lyeoper- 

Trillium  grand  iflorn  m. 
Wake-robin,  Nodding, 

Strawberry,  Wild  North- 

sieon. 

Trillium  cemuuni. 

ern, 

Trumpet-creeper, 

\\  ake-robm,  Prairie, 

Fragaria  canadensis. 

Teeomia  rad  leans,  or 

Trillium  recurvatum. 

^trawberry-bush, 

Bignonia  radicans. 

Walnut,  Black, 

Euon  it  m  M.V  a  merican  us. 
Sumac,  Fragrant, 
Rhus  aromatica. 
Sumac,  Mountain, 

Turnip, 

Brassica  campentris. 
Turtle-head, 
Chelone  glabra. 

Juglans  nigra. 
Water-leaf,  Virginia, 
Ilt/drophyllum     cirgin- 
icitm. 

Rhus  copallina. 
Sumac,  Staghorn, 

Twisted-stalk, 
Sfreptopus  amplexifo- 

Wayfaring  Tree, 
Viburnum  lantana. 

Rhu-s  lyphina. 

lius. 

Willow,  Pussy, 

Sunflower, 

Salix  discolor. 

Heiianthtts. 

Unicorn  Plant, 

\VillowT     Wisconsin,    or 

Sweet  Brier,  or  Eglantine, 

Martynia  proboscidea. 

Peach-leaved  , 

Rosa  rubiginosa. 
Sweet  Pea, 
Lathyrus  odoratus. 

Valerian, 

Valerian  a. 

SalLr  amygdaloides. 
Winterberry,  Virginia.. 
Ilex  verficillata. 

Sweet  William, 

Vervain,  Blue, 

W  itch-hazel, 

Diantkus  barbatus. 
Syringa, 

Verbena  hastata. 
Vetch,  American, 

Hamamelis  virgin  tana. 
W  it  he-rod 

Philadelph  us       corona- 

Vicia  americana. 

Viburnum  cassinoidfs. 

rius. 

Viburnum,  Chinese, 

W7ood  bine 

Syringa, 
Philadelphia  lemoinei. 

Viburnum  dilatahim. 
Viburnum,  Maple-leaved, 

Ampelopsis       quinque- 
folia  . 

Syringa,  Gordon's, 
Philadelphia   gordon- 

Viburnum    acerifoliu  in  . 
Viburnum,  Siebold's, 

Wood-sorrel,  Yellow, 
Oxalis  siricia. 

iamis. 

Viburnum  sieboldi. 

Syringa,    Large-flowered, 
Philadelphia   grandi- 
florus. 

Violet,  Bird-foot, 
Viola  pedaia. 
Violet,  Downy  Yellow 

Yellow-root. 
Xanthorhiza  apiifolia. 

Viola  pubescens. 

Tamarisk, 

Violet,  Meadow, 

Zinnia, 

Tamarix  parviftora. 

Viola  obliqua. 

Zinnia. 

278 


f.  •'  * 


.". 


5^ 

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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

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Series  9482 


C 


